


please hurry leave me, i can't breathe

by cosetties



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Banter, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor/adult relationship, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), True Love, isak overthinks everything as usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-10 01:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13494062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosetties/pseuds/cosetties
Summary: For the first time in his goddamn life, Isak is focusing on himself. Trusting people, loving people, has never worked out well for him anyway. The last thing he needs is Even, who looks at him like he sees right through him, like Isak is worthy of something more.Or, a yearlong look at something wholly unexpected but feels a lot like meant to be.





	1. please don't say you love me

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! i really don't know how i feel about this fic, but i really wanted to write something that takes a longer look at their relationship. this is the longest thing i've written in a while although i should not have haha. school is kicking my ass!! but here have this fic!! thank you to my lovely [ceecee](http://westiris.tumblr.com) for beta-ing!
> 
> title from first love / late spring by mitski. 
> 
> anyway this fic is done i just gotta edit the last parts so expect an update every couple of days or so.

**day one.**

Isak  _ hates  _ double dates.

He hates dates, period, hasn’t gone on one for more than a year, but there’s something especially excruciating about double dates. Whoever came up with the idea of forcing people to hit it off romantically in front an audience obviously had a real fucking rosy view of love. Love isn’t as easy as a nice dinner and a good conversation. It’s never been that way for people like Isak, who’ve had to claw their way to loving themselves, and even that’s debatable. Isak tolerates himself on the best of days, drowns himself in alcohol on the worst.

Double dates may be excruciating as a concept, but this one – well, this one takes the cake.

“So, what are you into?” Even asks, as he messes with his brussels sprouts. Isak had winced when Even placed his order. He’s spent the last four years struggling to eat more than one meal a day – he’s not wasting a fancy dinner order on fucking vegetables, especially when Eva’s paying.

Why she’d bothered coercing him into this with free food is a mystery. She’s been gazing into Noora’s eyes soppily for the last fifteen minutes anyway. They could do that over fucking McDonald’s, but had instead chosen a meal that would wipe out Isak’s food budget for the week. Sometimes, he wonders what it would be like – not having to worry about money, to eat something other than dry peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch, to actually have enough in his bank account to treat a date, if he ever wanted one. But that’s always been impossible. It’s better not to think about it.

Isak shrugs. “Music, video games.” Isak takes a massive bite of his steak. He’s totally aware there’s sauce at the corner of his mouth, but this isn’t a real date anyway. He’s got no one to impress.

He feels like a little bad for blowing the guy off, but he doesn’t need this right now. He’s only here to relieve some of the tension between Noora and Eva, and Eva had promised Even had gotten the memo. Isak isn’t looking for anything. He’s just getting his life together, after Alex, after everything went to shit. He’s already let a boy derail his life once. He won’t let himself make that mistake again.

But Even refuses to be deterred. He just keeps looking at Isak with the same smile he’s been sporting all night, the kind of expectant half-smile that makes Isak feel like his skin doesn’t fit right. “What a coincidence – I’m also into music and video games, just like half of Norway. Any favorites?”

Isak looks over at Eva, but there’s no rescue awaiting him. She’s feeding Noora bites of her filet. It’s disgusting, it’s gross, and it makes Isak’s heart twinge with suppressed longing. He sighs loudly, but manages to say, “I don’t know, man. 90’s hip-hop, I guess?”

Even lights up. “Ever listen to NAS?”

_ No _ . “Of course.”

“What’s your favorite album?”

“Uh – um.”

Even’s eyes spark with glee. “You haven’t listened to him, have you?”

“I totally have.”

“It’s okay, we can listen to him together sometime.”

He looks so hopeful that Isak’s halfway tempted to take him up on the offer, but he knows Even’s type – he’s nice, pretty, just the kind of guy Isak could fall for. That’s why he has to nip this in the bud before Even starts getting ideas.

Isak’s voice drops to a whisper, but he doubts Eva and Noora are paying them any attention anyway. “Look, dude, you know you don’t have to do this, right?”

Even blinks innocently. “Do what?”

“We’re not on a real date.”

If Isak had been waiting for a reaction, he’d be disappointed. Even just keeps smiling. “Oh, I know.”

“So why are you acting like it is?” he snaps. Everything about Even bothers him, from his slicked-back hair to fact that he’s everything Isak can’t be, everything he’s told himself he’s not allowed to have. 

“I didn’t know that dates were the only time I’m allowed to introduce people to seminal works of art.”

“You know what I mean, the whole cute small talk shit – “

“You want to cut the small talk? Maybe we could talk about our deepest hopes and aspirations instead. When I was little, I kind of wanted to be an astronaut, but then I figured out that physics and I just weren’t meant to be.”

Isak can’t help but gape at him a little, because  _ honestly,  _ who is this guy? He would’ve gladly spent the rest of the evening staring at Even in silence if Eva hadn’t somehow pulled her eyes away from Noora long enough to say, “Isak, be nice to Even. You two could be really great friends.”

From the way she’s looking between them, she’s expecting more than friendship _.  _ It slowly dawns on him that Eva may have ulterior motives for setting this up – there’s no way she actually needs a chaperone with a girl she’s been casually flirting with for a month. Ever since they’d met, Eva’s harped on him about finding a nice boy to settle down with. She doesn’t like him being alone. 

It’s his own fault. He’d only ever gone into detail about his past with Jonas. Eva knows a little about his family, but no more detail than that. Eva would never look at him the same if she knew the extent of it.

He stands up suddenly, bubbling with irritation. The chair scrapes against the floor, drawing attention from the table next to them. He knows he’s making a scene, but he can’t stand the pretense anymore. Even’s probably looking for someone nice, someone normal, and he’s sorry he can’t be that guy. It’s useless to pretend otherwise, and it’s useless for Eva to make him try when she knows where he stands. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s avoided Eva’s attempts to set him up for this very reason. To have everything he wanted at sixteen dangled in front of him — to be wined and dined by someone nice, someone genuinely interested — only to know he can’t do it all over again? That’s some self-punishment shit. 

“Eva, you can get the check, right? I have a lab report to finish before tomorrow,” Isak grits out.

Her face falls. “You didn’t mention that earlier.”

“I just remembered.”

She obviously doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t need her to. He doesn’t look at Even when he snatches his wallet and leaves the restaurant. Even doesn’t call after him. Isak didn’t expect him to, he  _ didn’t,  _ but for some guy who apparently wanted to know Isak better, he’s surprisingly okay with letting Isak go.

Isak ends up hitting on some stranger at the bar near his apartment. He’s just bulky enough to hold Isak down, but not bulky enough that he can’t get away if he wanted to. He’s got nice blue eyes that Isak can’t look away from. His name is Jan or Mick or something monosyllabic that’s easy to forget. He tells Isak he’s pretty as they’re grinding on the dance floor, and Isak’s answering grin comes almost automatically.  The grin works, and the next time the guy kisses him, he makes sure to press every inch of his body against Isak’s. 

They fuck hard enough that Isak’s worried for the guy’s next door neighbors. It’s the kind of fuck he needs, reminds him that he’s chosen this. Caring about people only gets him in trouble. Jonas and Eva had wormed their way in, but that’s all he’ll allow. Maybe in a couple of years, he thinks wistfully. Maybe one day he could allow himself to be happy.

Then Jan, Mick, whatever, wraps his mouth around Isak’s dick, and he forgets to think at all.

 

 

* * *

**day fifteen.**

It’s just Isak’s shitty luck that he finds Even sitting in the front row of his Intro to Modern Cinema class on the first day of the spring semester. He’s been dreading this class all day, but it was this or dance, and Isak’s body just doesn’t move like that. His mind wasn’t made for the arts – his mom had always said he loved answers too much to be satisfied with any sort of ambiguity. After he’d watched Titanic for the first time, he’d spent an hour doing the math to figure out if Jack could fit on the door. Eva had only rolled her eyes, complaining that the whole point of the movie, the whole point of  _ romance, _ was lost on him.

But if he was dreading it before, that’s nothing compared to the way he’s feeling as he reluctantly makes his way to the front. The seat next to Even is the only free one in the room – perks of arriving five minutes late. He can feel all eyes on him, but Even’s stand out. His stare bores through Isak, and he swears Even can see right through him. Isak drops into his seat with a sigh and glares at him. “What?” he snaps.

“Am I not allowed to look at you?”

Isak sputters. “I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Even says, but the smile from their disastrous date is back. It’s soft but knowing, and Isak wonders why the hell it’s so persistent when Isak has been nothing but rude to the guy. Usually, Isak’s whole thing is enough to ward anyone off. It’d be enough to ward Isak off if he were in their shoes. He’s just not worth the trouble. 

“You do too,” Isak says, because he’s not above sounding like a five-year-old.

“I’m just looking,” Even says, leaning back in his seat. But as the professor begins going over the syllabus again, Even winks at him.

Isak fumes.

After the lecture, he sprints out the door, ignoring the people he knocks over in his path. The first day and he’s already on a couple of hit lists, which strikes some potential partners for the end of semester group project. Isak can’t bring himself to care. All he can think about is getting away from Even, getting away from that smile, those eyes. Who the hell does he think he is? They’ve spoken for less than five minutes, and Even has the audacity to look at him like, like –

“Hi,” Even says. Somehow, he had beaten Isak to the entrance of the building. This entire crowd of people, and they couldn’t even do him the simple favor of slowing Even down. He lounges against the door like he’s fucking James Dean, and Isak can’t stand it. He can’t stand how effortlessly Even seems to command a room, commands Isak’s attention when Isak couldn’t care less about him.

“Can we talk?” Even asks, shifting on his feet awkwardly. It’s the first sign of uncertainty Isak’s seen from him, and it makes him seem more human. Isak doesn’t like it.

“What do we have to talk about?”

“That dinner – “ Even clears his throat. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

“If you didn’t realize, that’s how dates tend to go. Some are good, some are bad. Most are bad. That’s why I don’t go on them.”

Even’s face scrunches up. “Is that really what you think?”

“Statistically, it’s true. Or we’d fall in love with everyone we dated, and that would be a fucking disaster.”

“Sure, you don’t tend to meet the love of your life on dates, but that doesn’t mean they’re useless.”

Isak snorts. “I bet you’re one of those people who believe in love at first sight.”

Even shakes his head, but his smile doesn’t fall. “You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing.”

“You think being naïve about love is a good thing?”

“It can be. Sometimes, that’s the only way you find it.”

Even blinks at him so innocently that Isak has to take a deep breath to keep his irritation under check. Idiots like Even only get their heart broken, as Isak knows all too well. “Look, everything is chill, and trust me, it wasn’t personal. I’m just not into Eva meddling in my business. Let’s just forget about it, okay?”

“I don’t think I can do that.”

Isak throws his hands in the air. “Why the hell not?”

“Because – “ Even stops himself. “Look, I just don’t know why you’re so opposed to me.”

Even bites his lip, and he looks so small, so vulnerable that something in Isak deflates. He’s not  _ mean _ . There’s just something about Even that makes him more worried than usual. 

“I’m not opposed to you,” Isak admits. “I’m just not looking for a boyfriend.”

At that, Even grins. “Good, I’m not either.”

“What are you after then? A fuck?”

Isak had guessed right. The bluntness makes Even wince, but he can’t even see it as a victory. “Jesus Christ, no. Are you always like this?”

“Always like what?” Isak says innocently. It’s working – some of the light in Even’s eyes has dimmed, and he’s looking less interested by the minute.

This is good, he tells himself. This is what he wants.

“I just wanted to hang out with you because you seem halfway cool, and you’re already interrogating me about my intentions?” Even says.

Isak snorts. “You really, really don’t know me. What did Eva tell you? That I needed Prince Charming to swoop in and teach me how to love? Because been there, done that, and let me tell you, it’s not really worth it.”

Even just stares at him, and there’s that look again. It’s not exactly the same one from before, but it’s just as annoying. It’s the kind of look that says  _ I think I know you better than you know yourself.  _ It’s the kind of look Alex always gave him, but back then, he was stupid enough to believe it.

Finally, Even says, “Have you ever let yourself just be with people without wondering when they’re going to hurt you?”

It’s like a punch to the gut. “Maybe there’s a good reason for that,” Isak grits out.

“It’s not good enough to shut people out forever,” Even says, and he sounds so goddamn righteous, so infuriatingly naïve that it makes something in Isak snap.

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you have no idea what I’ve been through.”

“You don’t know what I’ve been through either,” Even says, voice wavering ever so slightly. He doesn’t go further, but Isak wilts a little at that. He’s had a bad day – he’s had a bad  _ year,  _ even though it’s only January, and Even seems like a genuinely nice guy. Isak has a mound of homework and shitty Ramen waiting for him at home, and he’d really rather not end his day on campus in a fight with someone he may have to spend time with by proxy.

He exhales, forcing his annoyance out with it. “We’re obviously never going to be best friends, so let’s just stay out of each other’s business, okay? I’m not here to feed your hero complex.”

Even hesitates, but just when Isak thinks that he’s going to fuck it up and try to psychoanalyze him again, Even nods.

Isak lets out a breath of relief. “Good. I’ll see you around?” he says, because he’s still got manners tucked inside him, somewhere. 

Even nods jerkily again, and as Isak walks to the tram, he thinks it’s a damn shame. In a parallel universe, he would’ve gone home with Even after that date. It would’ve been great. Even’s mouth is something straight out of porn, and Isak had conjured up half a thousand fantasies about it before he’d even sat down.  

He snorts. In a parallel universe, maybe, when Even wasn’t a fucking Disney prince who still believed in the power of human connection or whatever. Isak doesn’t know how anyone can still be this fucking optimistic about people. People kind of suck as a general rule, and Isak’s found enough exceptions to not be a total hermit, thanks. If only Even had been a little more jaded, a little less trusting. 

But if that were the case, Isak’s well aware he would’ve forgotten all about him by now, and that’s just another reason to stay far, far away.

 

 

* * *

**day twenty.**

Isak’s too drunk.

He’s no novice to the clubbing scene, but he prefers to stay at the edge of tipsy if he can. Alcohol is too much of a risk, and Isak’s had enough risk for a lifetime. He likes his risks catalogued and assessed carefully now, walks into decisions with mental pro and con charts. Somehow, he can’t seem to conjure any of them up as he takes another tequila shot. He doesn’t even bother with the lime after. That’s too easy, and he has a habit of making things too hard for himself when he’s in this state.

Alex is across the dance floor, hands on the hips of some boy who looks barely seventeen. Older than Isak was, he can’t help but think. At least there’s that.

Alex slips his fingers through the guy’s belt loops, trails his other hand around the guy’s waist, and Isak’s stomach curdles. That was his signature move. Isak had thought it was irresistibly sexy at sixteen. That’s what had convinced Isak to go home with him when Alex found him crying in a bar after he’d ran away from his mom. This episode had been worse than any other, and there’d been a month of tiptoeing around her before she finally snapped. As Isak had rushed out the door with a hastily-packed bag, she had yelled at him, screamed that he was the devil, before throwing a plate at his head.

He’d ducked just in time, but the damage was deeper than any physical wound. 

Alex gave him hope again. At first, Isak couldn’t believe his luck. A twenty-three year old man who could have anyone, who looked like a walking wet dream, and he’d chosen Isak? It was a stuff of fantasy for a kid so closeted he couldn’t even look around the locker room during gym period.  

Then the fighting started, and the cheating, and the blame. Isak just wasn’t a good enough boyfriend. He was lazy and stupid, and shit, couldn’t he suck dick any better? Alex should’ve trained him well enough. It was only fair that he fucked other people, paraded them in front of Isak like he was proud of it.  _ You’ll watch me, and you can’t do a goddamn thing about it.  _

For two years, Isak had felt grateful that Alex came home to him at the end of the day. He’d tried his best — cooked all of Alex’s meals for him, or at least Isak’s own approximation of cooking. Cleaned up around the apartment Alex had convinced him to move into when he’d found out about his home situation. Dropped out of school, because Isak wasn’t smart enough to get anywhere anyway, and besides, Alex had enough money for them, if Isak was very, very good. For two years, that bastard made him think Alex was the best he could do.

The first time Alex hit him, Isak begged him to stay. They’d been fighting over something stupid — some dick friend of Alex’s who couldn’t seem to get through his head that Isak was a real human being — when Isak had the audacity to assert himself. Alex had left anyway, brought back some blonde boy who had tried to suck Alex’s dick as soon as they made it through the front door, fuck the boyfriend who had dutifully waited up for him all night. 

The second time it happened, Isak packed his meager belongings and left. 

Jonas had pulled him out of that mess, stitched him back together so efficiently that Isak wished, with a desperate sort of longing, that he’d been there when Isak was younger. Jonas treated him like a long-lost brother anyway, like they were childhood friends instead of two strangers who happened to meet at a skate park. Isak’s left that part of his life behind since then, but he’d foolishly forgotten that Alex always brought out the worst in him.

He motions to the bartender to get him another shot. The guy looks worried, but he passes one over. Eva’s picking up the tab anyway, since her mom had given her free reign to celebrate her and Noora’s one-month anniversary. It’s her way of making up for her absence. Isak could almost laugh at the absurdity of it. He’s not sure whether any party, no matter how big or expensive, could make up for his parents abandoning him.

Isak’s about to down the shot when a hand wraps around his fingers, stopping him. There’s another hand at the small of his back, and when he realizes he’s being  _ cradled,  _ he whimpers involuntarily.

Fuck, he recognizes that hand.

“What are you doing here?” he hisses at Even, but it comes out as more of a vaguely indignant slur. “I made sure you weren’t coming.”

Even’s lips twitch. “You made sure?”

Isak would do anything to wipe that amused smirk off Even’s face, but that would require some sort of planning, which he’s definitely not equipped for. “Uh huh,” he nods. His head butts against Even’s chin, but he barely even flinches. “I asked Eva.”

“And why did you need to make sure I wasn’t coming?”

Isak purses his lips. “I didn’t want to be drunk around you.”

“Because?”

Isak pouts. “Because I would say something stupid, you dummy. Duh.”

“I don’t think you can insult my worldview any more than you already have.”

Even doesn’t  _ get  _ it, but it’s okay. He’s pretty enough that Isak will explain it to him. “I wouldn’t insult you again. I may have said something nice.”

Even gasps, clutching his chest. “God forbid you’re nice to me.”

Behind that sarcastic grin is a hint of hurt, and before Isak can stop himself, he says, “I want to be nice to you.”

That makes Even hesitate. “Then why aren’t you?”

“I can’t,” Isak says matter-of-factly. “It could be very bad for me.”

Even chuckles then, and somewhere in the back of his head, Isak knows he should be annoyed, but he can’t muster up the energy right now. “You’re nice enough,” Even says. 

Isak shakes his head adamantly. “No, I’m not. I think I’m a little bit of an asshole, actually.”

“I kind of deserved it.”

Now it’s Isak’s turn to gasp. “Don’t say that. No one deserves people being…being mean to them.”

Even’s smile is indulgent, but for once, it doesn’t bug Isak. “No, no one really does,” he agrees.

Isak’s voice drops. “Can I tell you a secret?” He doesn’t wait for Even’s answer before he says, “I don’t deserve that either.”

Even makes some sort of strangled sound. “That’s a secret?”

Isak nods very seriously. “Jonas says sometimes I forget that.”

Even pulls him closer, and he’s warm, so warm that Isak could fall asleep against his chest, right in the middle of this club. He’s so drunk he can barely even hear the music, and anyway, the thump of the bass is lulling him to sleep. “You shouldn’t forget that,” Even says softly.

“Isak can be kind of mean to himself,” he says.

Even actually laughs at that. It’s a beautiful sound, pure and carefree, and Isak realizes that it’s the first time he’s heard that laugh. He’s a little addicted already.

“Alright, talking about yourself in third person is always a bad sign. Let’s find your friends,” Even says. He tries to pull Isak off the chair, but his legs are actually jelly, and his face smashes against Even’s shoulder. He has to wrap his arms around Even to keep himself upright, but for some reason, Even stiffens. Isak frowns. That’s not good. Isak’s having a great time tangled up with Even, but what if Even secretly hates him? That would suck.

He doesn’t realize he’s said it aloud before Even laughs again, and yep, definitely addicted. “I definitely don’t hate you. Come on, I see Eva sucking face with Noora.”

Panic rises up in Isak. “No, don’t go over there.”

“Why?” Even says. 

“Because it’s their party, and I don’t want to ruin it.”

“I doubt you’d be ruining anything. You’re one of her best friends.”

But Isak shakes his head so vigorously that Even eventually sighs, “I’m taking you home myself, then.”

Isak’s eyes widen. He’s already burdened Even enough, behaving like this. Even didn’t come here to take care of Isak. “No, you’re here to have fun.”

Even chuckles. “I came here to say hi to Noora, and guess what, I’m doing that now.” He waves over Isak’s shoulder, then shoots Noora a thumbs up. Pouting, Isak realizes that he’s the subject of the thumbs up. There’s probably time to be embarrassed about this later, but right now, Even is drawing circles on his back, and he feels, for the first time in years, that he’s right where he’s supposed to be.

Even manages to get him into an Uber, with only one delay for Isak to throw up on the curb. Even pats his back sympathetically, and even in this state, he can’t help but hate that Even’s seeing him like this, when Isak has never seen him looking any less than perfect.  

You’d have to stick around to see that, Isak reminds himself. You don’t want that.

That thought flits away in the next second.

It takes ten harrowing minutes for the Uber to get to Isak’s apartment complex, and he spends all of them clutching his stomach. The roof of the car spins around him, but Even’s presence next to him keeps him grounded. If he focuses on that, his stomach calms down somewhat. 

It doesn’t hit him until they arrive at Isak’s door. “How do you know where I live?”

Even doesn’t even bat an eye as he reaches into Isak’s coat pocket to pull out his keys. “We live in the same building. I’ve seen you around.”

“Did you see me before I saw you?” he says, slowly. The thought makes him feel all bubbly inside. Even had  _ seen  _ him.

Even sighs. “Yes, because that’s the story of my life.” Before Isak can figure out whatever the hell that means, Even’s pulling him inside. Isak plops down on the couch immediately, even turns himself on his side because if he’s going to be a drunk idiot, he’s doing to be a drunk idiot who doesn’t choke on his own vomit. Besides, he’s taken care of Magnus’ drunk ass enough times for this to be instinctual.

Even places a trash can next to his head and sits on the floor, pulling his knees to his chest. His legs are so long that it’s almost absurd, but Isak’s laugh comes more as a wet cough.

“Are you sure you don’t want to lie down on a bed?” Even says.

Isak shakes his head, but miscalculates and shakes it a little too hard. The room spins for a second, but Even reaches out to steady him. His touch is feather-light, but leaves a scorching imprint. Even’s hand flits away in the next second, but Isak can’t get it out of his head, can’t get Even out of his head.    

“Maybe it’s not a good idea to move you after all,” Even says, amused.

The couch suddenly feels like the best mattress money can buy, and Isak yawns loudly. “Beds are for…they’re for people who have their shit together anyway.”

“Not you then?”

“Nuh-uh. I still can’t eat adult Cheerios. I have to pour extra sugar on them,” he says proudly.

“Healthy cereal is overrated,” Even agrees.

“That’s what I tell Eva! But she’s worried I may get dia…diab…dia…”

“Diabetes?”

“It’s a very long word. You’re really smart.”

Even chuckles. “Not as smart as you. Eva tells me you’re studying Biochemistry.”

Isak makes a face. “Only when I’m sober. Drunk Isak can only study this couch.” He rolls over, mashing his face against the cushion, but Even is there in the next second, turning him back over. He looks at Even with glassy eyes. “You saved me.”

Even hums but doesn’t respond. Isak doesn’t miss the way his mouth quirks upwards. It turns out making Even smile is a lot less exhausting than disappointing him, and isn’t that something he wants to forget by the time he’s sober. Even finds the ratty blanket at the arm of the couch and tucks Isak in. Isak moans in relief as he pulls it up to his chin, and the corners of Even’s eyes crinkle at that. Isak is suddenly hit with the urge to  _ touch,  _ to run his fingers over the dips of Even’s face so he has them burned into his skin.

He stops himself just in time. His hand falls to Even’s forearm instead, but he snatches it away in the next second.  “Thank you,” he says finally.

Even’s eyes soften, and he tucks a strand of Isak’s hair behind his ear. The curl bounces back just as quickly, but Even doesn’t try again, and Isak is only left bereft. “We’ve all been there.”

“It’s just that my ex was here tonight, and – “

“You don’t have to say any more. I’m not the best person around my ex either.”

Isak’s eyes are already drifting shut when he whispers, “Can I tell you another secret?” 

“Yeah?”

“I used to be like you. I used to believe in people too.”

Even looks pained. “Isak, maybe we shouldn’t be talking about this now.”

Even’s expression is already shuttering closed, and that’s not okay. That’s not okay when Isak feels solid in a way he thought was lost to him. That’s not okay when he wants to figure out what this is between them, if there _is_ anything at all or if Isak’s just making it up. He doesn’t know what he’d prefer. 

“I just wanted you to know. Because – “

Isak proceeds to throw up on Even’s shirt, and that’s that.

 

 

* * *

**day twenty-one.**

“I know what you’re thinking, Jonas,” Isak says, as he stirs the batter. “And I want you to stop thinking it.”

“You want me to stop thinking about British colonialism? I wish half the world could.” Jonas is doing some homework in the living room, if they can even call it that. Their apartment is so small that the kitchen and living room are basically one. Isak knows Jonas can afford something bigger, can afford a nicer place with a roommate who regularly contributes his share of the utilities and groceries. This place is a necessity borne from Isak’s own meager savings, and there’s not a day that goes by without Isak feeling guilty about dragging Jonas into his mess. But Jonas had insisted they stick together, and in the end, it hadn’t been much of a fight.

The apartment may be a dump, but it’s a place to call his own, one that he’d earned from his own hard work. It had taken a year of working late shifts at their 24-hour supermarket for him to be able to save enough money for this. He can even afford his own food now, most of the time, though he knows Jonas doesn’t mind him mooching off him when he’s in a bind. Asking Jonas for the eggs he needed to make Even’s apology cookies, though – well, Jonas may never stop giving him shit for that.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Isak huffs. “I want you to stop thinking that Even’s, like, a thing for me. Because he isn’t.”

“Which is why you’re making him cookies.”

“They’re an apology for throwing up on him.” Isak cringes as he recalls the memory. There’d been a time when he could down fifteen vodka shots without breaking a sweat, but his growing age is kind of a bitch. Twenty years old – his wild youth is practically over. He vaguely remembers trying to apologize after the vomit had been projected, but nothing after that. All he knows is that he’d woken up with a glass of water next to his head, his shoes off, and his coat hung by the door. He’d laid there for another thirty minutes, running through all the options.

He could pretend yesterday never happened. But the memories are all too clear, and he’s never been a good actor. He can’t even tell Jonas that his new jeans look good without sounding fake, and pretending that he hadn’t pathetically revealed too much of himself is a much more daunting task than lying to Jonas about how good his ass looks.

Which brings him here. There’s no way he can avoid Even at school, when they’re bound to see each other in class. The only option is to apologize and get it over with, and no one can say no to cookies. That they’re the only thing Isak can bake halfway decently is an added perk. He’s proud to say that the guys have all eaten them without complaint. He’s practically a PTA mom.

“Most guys you vomit on will accept a ‘sorry’ text.”

Isak tries to measure out an appropriate amount of chocolate chips, then decides to fuck it and dump them all in. Isak’s never complained about too much chocolate. “I don’t have his number.”

“Eva has his number. And it would’ve taken you the exact same amount of effort to ask her for it instead of asking her where he  _ lives.” _

“He lives here. I just thought it’d be convenient.”

“You whined about climbing three flights of stairs that time the elevator broke.”

“I’ve been working out.” 

“I just want you to be open to the idea that you maybe, quite possibly, like him?”

Isak sighs. “Look, Even’s a cool guy, okay? I don’t not like him.”

Jonas snorts. “That’s a stunning endorsement.”

“But I haven’t dated anyone in so long I’m not sure I remember how to.”

“Then don’t date him. What’s the big deal? This guy is nice to you, obviously wants to be friends – “

Isak winces. “That’s kind of the problem.”

“The problem is that he’s not a dick to you?”

“Most people are. Dicks, I mean.”

“What about me?” Jonas says, indignant.

“You stole my hot Cheetos. You’re kind of a dick.” With a breath of relief, Isak finally pops the tray in the oven. He’d even used Eva’s cookie cutters. If Even can resist these, he’s inhuman. They look like dinosaurs, for God’s sake. 

Back in the living room, Jonas has abandoned his homework to text a girl he’d met at the club yesterday, but his head perks up when Isak comes in. “How long are the cookies going to bake?” Jonas says.

Isak looks down at his watch. “T-minus 30 minutes until apology. Wish me luck.”

“I only know what Eva’s told me, but from what I can tell, Even’s not the kind of guy who’s going to hold a little bit of vomit against you.”

It had been a lot of vomit, but Jonas doesn’t need the clarification. “I know he won’t.” Isak grabs a pillow and shoves his face into it to hide. “I’m just so fucking embarrassed _.” _

“For throwing up? We’ve all done it.”

“For letting Alex get to me like that,” he admits softly. Isak likes to think that, over the years, he’s developed a sort of immunity to the things that hurt, but this is the one that will never go away. No matter how far he’s come, all of it’s in spite of Alex, defined by everything bad that had happened between them. He hasn’t spoken to Alex since the breakup, but Isak hasn’t grown any better at handling seeing him around. He still wonders when he’ll be able to go about doing everyday human things without this weighing on him. 

“I think that says more about him than it does about you.”

Isak huffs out a breath. “I just hate giving him so much power over me.”

“I’m not saying it’s easy, but for what it’s worth, I think you’re starting to change that.”

“What do you mean?”

Jonas nods at the cookies, smirking knowingly. Isak gives a grand roll of his eyes, but he doesn’t have enough energy to protest. 

Anyway, a tiny part of Isak hopes that Jonas is right. 

* * *

Even’s wearing an apron when he opens the door. He blinks at him for a second, then breaks out into a tentative smile. “Hi, I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

Isak holds up the plate of cookies, clearing his throat. “I just came to give you this. I was kind of a mess last night, and you didn’t have to take me home.” Some of the cookies have started falling apart, but he’s still pretty proud of himself. For someone who’s been living off Ramen for the past semester, apparently he’s still got some domesticity in him.

Even just keeps staring at him, and slowly, Isak’s face starts to burn. “Sorry if this is weird,” he rushes out. What the hell had he been thinking? They barely know each other, but here’s Isak begging for Even’s forgiveness like they’re friends, or  _ worse _ .

(Or better.)

Even shakes his head quickly. “No, no. Of course it’s not weird. I just didn’t take you for much of a baker, that’s all.”

Isak coughs. “Oh, I’m not. I set a cake on fire once.”

“Did the cake deserve it?”

“Oh yeah, that cake was the worst _.  _ Gossiped about all the other cakes, refused to make new friends, stole everyone’s crayons, that kind of thing.”

“You’re a hero. Saving the world one cake at a time.”

“It’s my true calling. Medicine is just a pit stop.”

Even chuckles, but turns serious again just as quickly. “You don’t have to thank me. I wasn’t going to let you pass out in that club.”

“Some people would have.”

The weight of Even’s stare is too much, and Isak has to lower his gaze. He’s crazy for thinking this was a good idea. Sooner or later, Even would find out about Isak’s demons, and he’d only be left with disdain, or worse,  _ pity.  _ Even looks like the kind of guy who would appreciate a project, but Isak can’t be fixed. He just can’t.

“Uncle Evy, I smell cookies,” a small voice says suddenly. When Isak looks down, there’s a little girl, no older than five, grabbing at the bottom of Even’s jeans. She’s wearing a Captain America shirt, and she looks so much like Even it’s a little disconcerting. She cocks her head at Isak. “Who are you?”

Isak’s never been good at dealing with surprises, but thankfully, Even beats him to it. “This is my friend Isak. Isak, this is my niece Elise.” Even mouths  _ sorry,  _ but Elise doesn’t seem to notice, because she only has eyes for the cookies. She stands on her tip-toes to get a good look at them, but Isak quickly brings them down to her eye level. Before they’re even strictly in reach, Elise snatches one, as if one of them would stop her if she doesn’t go for it now. Superhero reflexes, indeed.

Isak bites his lip to hold back his laughter.

After one bite, she seems to determine her verdict. “You can bake?” There’s chocolate smeared all over her mouth, and Even rolls his eyes fondly at the mess. Isak’s chest aches.

“That’s kind of a stretch, but – “

Elise tugs on Even’s sleeve. “Can he help us, please,  _ please _ ?” She turns to Isak. “We’re baking a giant cookie for my class, and then I’m gonna decorate it like Captain America’s shield, and it’s gonna be  _ great.” _

Isak sneaks a quick glance at Even, but can’t read his expression. “I’m sure you and your uncle have it covered.”

There’s something about this kind of unbridled enthusiasm that always makes Isak nostalgic for the childhood he’d never had. Even when things with his parents were more or less fine, he’d always known his mom wasn’t normal, even as he tried his best to ignore it. She was just eccentric, and religious, and moms didn’t have to spend every waking second with their kid to be a good mom. And she  _ was  _ a good mom, when it mattered. When he’d broken his leg falling off his bike, when he’d played a tree in that school play and she’d clapped the loudest, when his dad had left for the first time.

But that’s just his mind playing tricks on him. Those had been rare, fleeting moments of joy in a time mostly spent in fear and loneliness. Isak’s starting to forget the bad now that he’s had time to recover. He can’t let himself forget.

Elise pouts, crossing her arms over her chest. “Uncle Evy bought cookie dough, but I wanted to make the cookies by ourselves. That’s how my friend Mary and her mom do it.”

Even sighs. “I told you it’s just easier that way.” Over her head, he mouths  _ I can’t bake. _

Isak barely manages to stifle his snort.  

“I’m sure Isak is busy, Elise.”

Isak’s stomach drops. Even must have gotten the signal by now – Isak’s fucked up enough times for him to get sick of him. He may indulge Isak when he’s literally helpless, but allowing him to hang out with his niece is another story. He should go, finish that Genetics assignment he’s been putting off, start the semester on the right foot.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want,” Even says, and the uncertainty in his voice stops Isak in his tracks. A spark of hope blossoms in Isak’s chest.

“I’m free, but only if it’s okay with you,” he says.

A part of him hopes Even will say no. 

But Even breaks into a wide smile, and Isak’s breath catches in his throat. “Of course it’s okay with me. Plus, it’ll take two of us to make this monster behave.”

Elise pouts. “I’m not a  _ monster – “  _ But Even’s already scooping her up in his arms and taking her inside. It’s not an easy task given the sheer amount of squirming, but no matter how loudly she shrieks for him to let her down, he manages to hold on. Soon, she’s laughing, and they look so comfortable together that Isak’s heart gives a squeeze. He hesitates at the door, wary of ruining that perfect picture.

Even looks over his shoulder, asks, “Are you coming in? I’ll try my best not to set your cookies on fire, but no promises.”

There’s only one answer he can give.

* * *

“Do you want me to help, Elise?” Even asks, hovering over her. Elise has spent the last fifteen minutes stirring the batter Isak had thrown together, but it’s still more clumps than actual batter.

“ _ No _ ,” she insists, snatching the bowl away from Even so forcefully that she nearly topples over.

It’s only Isak who keeps her from falling off the stool, and as he helps her regain her balance on the seat, Even beams at him. It’s Isak’s turn to nearly lose his balance.

“I’m not a baby,” Elise pouts.

“I know you’re not. I’m just trying to make it go faster. Don’t you want to eat the cookies soon?” Isak can hear the trace of frustration in his voice. He gets it. At this rate, they won’t be done for another hour, and Even’s sister is picking her up soon. She’s out getting her hair done before a networking event, because looking good is the only way she gets through those few hours of literal hell. She works at a law firm, Even had explained as he laid out the ingredients. Pays well, but he personally can’t fathom spending his entire day in a suit, arguing about other people’s problems.

Isak had also found that Even has a tendency to babble when he’s nervous. It’s kind of cute. But the fact that  _ Isak  _ is the one making Even nervous, no matter the reason, has him a little dizzy. He’s never liked this kind of responsibility. 

Isak gently places a hand on Elise’s hand, halting her movements. “Why don’t we do this together?”

Elise looks at him suspiciously.

“We’ll pour the batter into two bowls, and whoever gets it mixed the fastest wins?”

Elise lights up. Isak must’ve guessed right – he’d had a competitive streak a mile wide when he was that age too, before it slowly became a chore to care about much of anything. It’s taken time to relearn that, but now he’s proud of say that he’s as much of a competitive asshole as he was at five years old.

The contest is what gives Elise enough energy to finish up, and Isak slows down enough that they tie at the end. Even gives her a standing ovation as Isak pops the cookie in the oven, and Elise giggles in glee. “This is going to be so much better than Chris’ Batman cupcakes.”

“I don’t know, Elise, Batman is pretty cool,” Isak says.

“But does he beat a giant cookie?”

And Isak can’t argue against that.

They eat Isak’s cookies as they wait, and they’re honestly not half bad. Would’ve been better years ago, when he still had his mom’s recipe fresh in his memory, but they’re on the better side of average. The chocolate is still gooey, which is the true test of a good cookie, really.

Isak glances across the table, at the smear of chocolate on Even’s lips, and he thinks that’s never been truer. By the time Even’s sister, Anna, comes to pick up her daughter, Isak has eaten so many cookies he can feel the impending stomachache. There’s icing  _ everywhere  _ in Even’s kitchen – the aftermath of an impromptu war between the three of them – but Anna doesn’t blink an eye.

“Between you and me,” Anna tells Isak as Even says goodbye to Elise, “Better his kitchen than mine. Thanks for helping with her.”

“No problem. She’s a really good kid.”

Anna looks at him curiously. “What’s your name? Even talks about his friends constantly, and I don’t think he’s ever mentioned you?”

Isak scratches the back of his neck. “Uh, I’m Isak.”

“New friend?”

Isak is about to respond that they aren’t really friends, that this is the longest civil, sober interaction they’ve had, but that seems like too much to unload on a stranger he’ll never see again. In the end, he settles on, “Yeah, I’m a new friend.”

It feels like a lie for all the wrong reasons. This feels so much bigger than that. 

After he shuts the door behind him, Even lets out a sigh. “I love her, but that kid has so much energy.”

“You’re just a grumpy old man.”

“I’m only three years older than you.”

“Three years is a long time. You start hurting  _ everywhere _ , forget all about the wonders of childhood…”

Even shakes his head in amusement. “You’re not what I expected, Isak Valtersen.” Isak waits for him to clarify, but he seems to like keeping Isak in the dark, the jerk. He rifles around in his drawers for something, but when he pulls out a Ziploc bag of old brownies, Isak’s disappointed.

“You want?” Even asks.

Isak pats his stomach. “Thanks, but I think I’ve had enough baked goods for the day. I better get going.”

Even quirks an eyebrow at him, and he suddenly gets it.

“On second thought, I think I’ll stay.”

* * *

Even had gotten them high by arguing that cleaning a kitchen is always better when you’re not entirely sober, but in the end, they ignore the mess completely in favor of lying on Even’s bed, side by side. Isak doesn’t do edibles much, prefers smoking whatever his friends have available, and he’d forgotten how easy it is for them to completely fuck him up in the best way. This is the most relaxed he’s felt in months. No impending assignments he has to ace to keep his scholarship, no stress about the extra shifts he’s working this weekend to pay rent on time.  

Even’s room, like his kitchen, is overflowing with the sheer amount of staff he’s managed to cram into it. It’s nothing like Isak’s bare apartment, which is only filled with the bare necessities. Isak is once again reminded of the distance between them. There’s a guitar at the corner of the room, a desktop computer that’s collecting dust, and his walls are covered with pictures – so many of them that they’re spinning before Isak’s eyes. Some of them are beautiful, realistic renderings of people he assumes are Even’s friends, but he likes the funny ones the best. He makes out a cartoon of what he assumes are Captain America and Putin falling in love, another starring Mercutio – Magnus is studying literature, and some of that Shakespeare knowledge must have transferred over by osmosis, to Isak’s chagrin.

He doesn’t notice Even gauging his reaction until he asks, “Do you like them?”

Isak smiles softly. “Yeah, they’re really funny.”

But that’s not really why he’s so fascinated. He’s suddenly realizing how little he knows about Even, and he’s a little scared by how much he wants to know more, to sink deep into everything that makes up this boy.

“What did Eva tell you about me?” Isak asks carefully.

“Nothing except that you were studying Biochem and that you were rooming with Jonas, I swear. I had no idea she was trying to set us up or – “

“I believe you.”

“You do?” Even says, surprised. 

“Eva is really big into helping people figure themselves out when they don’t want it.”

Even chuckles. “So does Noora. I’m kind of scared of them joining forces.”

“Well, they’ve already failed once with us, so maybe that’ll set them back.”

Even coughs, and Isak blushes all over. Neither of them have to say it. They may have gotten off to a rocky start, but they’re lying in bed together, so really, had the girls failed?

Isak has to tell himself the answer is yes. That’s the only way he can keep his sanity.

“I still think you know more about me than I know about you,” Isak says, quickly changing the subject. “I don’t even know what your major is.”

“Noora didn’t warn you I was a dirty arts student?”

Isak feigns a groan. “I guess we can’t hang out anymore.”

“You’re killing me, Valtersen.”

Isak shrugs. “Sorry, maybe if you just majored in something more useful. Have you ever heard of Biochem – “

Even hits him with a pillow then, which Isak grabs to muffle his laughter. It’s too easy to be around Even, too easy to feel light and carefree when Isak should feel anything but.

“Really, though,” Isak says when he’s done, “I may not get the arts, but I promise I’m not a snob. What’s your major?”

“Film. I’m a fourth year.”

Isak slowly turns to face Even, pillowing his head on his hand. Even’s hand is only inches from his, taunting him. “You make movies?”

Even looks amused. “I try.”

“Do, or do not. There is no try.”

Even snorts. “Did you really just quote Yoda at me?” But his eyes are bright, and he looks impossibly fond. He strokes a thumb across Isak’s cheekbone, and Isak shudders under his touch. A part of him is desperate to tell Even to snap out of it, because he’s not brave enough to do it himself. 

The bigger part of him stays silent. 

“You’re the one who has a Lego Millenium Falcon,” Isak teases. Isak had treated his own Lego Starship Enterprise like it was the Hope Diamond itself, but that’s justified. It does seem a little counterproductive to get into the Star Wars vs. Star Trek debate right now, though. 

“Hey, don’t shit on the Legos. They’re surprisingly complicated.”

“I remember. My mom said that when I was a kid, I’d always try eating them when I got frustrated with actually putting them together.”

“I always thought they were too colorful for you  _ not  _ to eat.”

“Finally! Someone who agrees with me.”

“Now you can tell your mom that.”

Isak’s mouth goes dry, and it’s almost uncanny how quickly Even catches on. 

“What’s wrong?” he says.

Isak clears his throat, and it comes out a little wet. “My mom and I don’t really talk.”

That’s a little bit of a lie. A year ago, Isak had dropped off his phone number in the birthday card he left on her doorstep. Four years after he’d walked away and she still lived in the same house. It may be a good sign – she must be self-reliant at least part of the time. Isak prefers to take it as a good sign. He’d made sure her car was gone from the driveway before stopping by, but that didn’t stop the sharp ache in his chest as he stood in front of the too-familiar front door.

For a second, he’d tried to think of it as home.

It didn’t work. He’d shaken his head, as if to throw off the thought. It didn’t sit right with him, made him feel a little gross, honestly. The ties he has to this place are memories long faded. They belong to someone else entirely, someone younger, less lost. He’d finally cut off ties to his childhood, and he didn’t feel any stronger for it.

_ If you ever want to tell me about your day,  _ he’d written in the card. His mother had instead chosen to send him Bible verses every couple of weeks. He even remembers her yelling some of them at him during her episodes, back when he’d lived at home. Verses about God’s power, His will. Verses about the sin of homosexuality.

Isak had gone out to get well and truly fucked up after that one. The guy he’d gone home with was a little rough around the edges, but Isak was a still surprised at how long the bruises stayed after. He shouldn’t have been. He remembered asking for it, distantly, as if watching himself from afar. The truth is, he doesn’t why pain is so much easier for him to handle than all the good in the world. Maybe it’s better not to know.

When he’d left that morning, clothes stained with come and feeling emptier than he had for a long time, he finally understood his mother. A sin, indeed.

For his part, Even doesn’t probe further. He only gives Isak a small smile, brushes his fingers along Isak’s arm.

Isak has never appreciated him more. 

Isak rolls over, so he’s facing the ceiling again. He smiles when he sees a picture of young Even with a video camera. His smile is so bright it’s almost blinding, or maybe that’s just what Isak chooses to see. “What kind of movies do you make?”

If the change in subject surprises Even, he doesn’t let it show. The corner of his mouth twitches upward. “You’re going to hate this, but my best ones are the love stories.”

Isak snorts, but this time, there’s no condescension. He should’ve expected this, honestly, as if this ridiculous boy could do anything but. “How sappy are they?”

“Actually, most of them are pretty sad.”

Isak eyebrows shoot up. “What? But you actually believe in love.”

“I do, but love can be the saddest feeling in the world.” Even’s mouth quirks upwards, and his smile is a little wistful. “Besides, the most epic love stories are the ones that end in tragedy.”

“You can’t really believe that,” Isak protests. This doesn’t fit with what he’s seen from Even so far. Besides, if Even doesn’t believe in happy endings, what do the rest of them have to look forward to?

Even chuckles. “Who are you and what have you done to Isak Valtersen?” Isak gives an indignant snort at that. 

Even’s smile turns pensive. “I think that you need the tragedies to remind yourself how good love can be, even if it ends badly. The endings aren’t always the most important part of the story.”

“Isn’t that the only part that matters?” With Alex, everything had been bad — all of it, from their meeting, to their relationship, all the way to the bitter end. It had only taken Isak months to get that, long after their breakup, and he still feels a little pathetic for acting like a fool for so goddamn long. 

Even sits up so suddenly that he nearly knocks the joint from Isak’s fingers. “Alright, this is enough.”

“Enough what?”

“You look sad.”

Isak snorts. “Everyone’s fucking sad.”

Even peers at him intently. “That’s a real fucking depressing thought,” he says.

Isak shrugs.

Even scrambles off the bed, heading to the precarious stack of vinyls sitting on his desk. Trying to pick one is like an elaborate game of Jenga, but Even manages to do it anyway. He holds up one album proudly. “I did promise you I’d introduce you to NAS.”

“And I told you I’d listened to him before,” Isak says, but it’s more of a half hearted joke than anything. It still gets a grin out of Even, though, and before he can tamp it down, he’s grinning back. He’s ridiculous, Even’s ridiculous, and this entire thing is ridiculous. If anyone had told him back at their first meeting, that Even would somehow get him into his bed — no matter how innocent all this is — he would have laughed in their face. Now, this feels like the most natural thing. 

And right then, the fear seems secondary to the sheer joy that thought brings. 

Isak settles back against the pillows as Even puts the record in the player. “I’m expecting this to change my life.”

“It will,” Even beams and for a second, it doesn’t feel like they’re talking about the music.

Two hours later, Isak is still in Even’s bedroom, belly full with laughter and the cheese toasties that Even had scrounged up from the kitchen. By the time they’d actually gotten to finishing them, the toasties were less toast than cold blocks of bread, but they still tasted delicious, better than any fancy dinner Eva took him to with her mom’s guilt money. The brownies had worn off enough for Even to pull out a joint — from behind his ear, no less — and each hit seems better than the last. Isak can’t remember what they were talking about, really. They could’ve been talking about the weather for all he knew. All he feels is a soft warmth, and Isak comes perilously closer to bringing his hand to Even’s with each passing second. He doesn’t think Even would mind. 

“Why are you in an Intro to Cinema class anyway if that’s your major?” Isak asks. Even’s sprawled out on his stomach, searching through his Netflix for something both of them can agree on. So far, Isak’s vetoed everything Even can come up with, but he doesn’t think Even cares all that much, if his widening grin is any indication. He seems to get a kick out of Isak’s bitching, which is great, really, because that’s the one thing he’s sure he can do well. 

“Forgot to take it my first year. I started a year late, so my schedule was fucked.” Even hovers his mouse over Magic Mike, and yeah, he’s not even trying anymore. Even will never have to know exactly how many times Magnus had roped him into watching that movie, though he didn’t have to try too hard. 

“Why’d you start late?”

“Medical reasons,” Even says. He breathes in slowly, bracing himself. “I, uh, am actually bipolar. I had really bad episode right before college started.”

Isak’s brain shuts down for a second. “Oh.”

“I just thought you should know that.”

Isak nods silently, but his head is a mess.  _ Bipolar.  _ It’s such a goddamn scary word. His mind flashes back to his mom’s diagnosis — it hadn’t seemed real then either. 

But Even is more real than anything, more real than Isak would like, if he has any sense of self-preservation. 

Even eyes pierce right through him, but Isak can sense the nervousness behind them. “How do you feel about that?” he asks hesitantly.

“I don’t think what I feel should matter, because no one’s opinion should ever make you feel bad about who you are,” Isak says carefully. Even isn’t his mom. That she had refused to get treatment, would rather hurt her son that help herself, that’s not his mom’s illness. That’s on her. “But, if you’re wondering, I’d never have a problem with something like that.”

Even breaks out in a grin. “It matters. You matter.”

Isak shakes his head vigorously, but Even just keeps smiling that secret smile. It’s becoming more endearing than annoying. It’s becoming a goddamn problem. 

Isak’s stomach flips, and suddenly, it’s hard to keep still. He looks around the room for a distraction, anything to keep himself from falling deeper, and that’s what he sees their picture, right by Even’s desk. 

Even has his arms around some girl with short hair, Eiffel Tower in the background. It’s the most cliché fucking thing, but Isak can’t say that he’s never thought about it, about letting someone sweep him off his feet and do all the cheesy things couples are meant to do. He hadn’t realized until now how truly fucked he was until the disappointment fully settled in his gut. He’s a fool. Even had been too good to be true after all. 

The girl is beautiful, and Isak can’t stop staring. She’s beautiful and it makes so much sense for her and Even to be together. It figures someone like Even only dates supermodels. Isak doesn’t stand a chance, even if he’d been looking for one.

“What are you looking at – oh,” Even says flatly. “That’s Sonja.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Ex.” Even runs his fingers through his hair in agitation. “I just haven’t taken the picture down yet. We only broken up two months ago, but I guess I got so used to it that I forgot it was there.”

Isak wants to breathe out in relief, but something stops him, chokes him up. “You two dated for a while?”

“About five years.”

Isak can’t fathom loving someone for that long, being loved  _ by _ someone that long. 

“We were both seeing other people by the end anyway,” Even continues. 

Alex had been “seeing other people” too, casually, like Isak didn’t care. Like Isak didn’t  _ deserve  _ to care. 

Isak stands up, brushing the breadcrumbs off his hoodie. “Look, I gotta go.” He doesn’t meet Even’s eyes. 

“Already?”

“I’ve been here for hours.”

Even glances at his phone, suddenly noticing the time. “Then a few more hours won’t matter, right?”

Isak shakes his head. “I have a test on Monday.”

“Can’t you study here?” At the pure hope in Even’s plea, Isak almost cracks. Even’s already proven that he’s not Alex, but he needs time to think, and it’s too much of a risk. Especially if Alex was right, that there’s something wrong with Isak that makes it hard for people to stay interested for long. The idea that Even could — and probably would — get tired of him makes him feel sick to his stomach. “I’ll stay quiet.” Even mimes zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key.

Isak does crack at that, a little, but his smile flits away just as quickly. “I’ll see you later,” he says, because that’s all he can give Even right now.

Even nods unhappily, but he’s a perfect gentleman as he walks Isak to the door.

Isak can’t sleep that night at all. 


	2. one word from you and and i would jump off of this ledge i'm on, baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak doesn't know what this is exactly, but maybe he's in so deep that it doesn't even matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO! i did promise y'all that this fic is done. there may be a longer wait for the next chapter though just because there's a lot going on and i want to make sure i end this the way i want to but hey i am procrastinating so i thought why not post this. thank you to everyone who commented on chapter one. you have no idea how incredibly happy and honored i am that you took time to write such thoughtful, beautiful comments. y'all are the reason i keep doing this. 
> 
> anyway this is pure fluff, enjoy!

**day twenty-four.**

By Wednesday, he’s sure he has to break off whatever this is between them. Jonas had spent the past couple of days shaking his head sadly as Isak pottered around the apartment, mentally going through the pros and cons of it. Pros — Even’s hot, he’s nice, and he holds all the promise of something more, something frighteningly real. Cons — he could break Isak even more than Alex ever did, if it had taken only one afternoon for Isak to be this conflicted already. 

Three days in, he realizes his first instinct was an instinct for a reason. No matter what, how matter how tempting he is, Isak just can’t give in. Isak is many things, but he’s not completely fucking stupid, not anymore, and Even is a supremely stupid move. The longer he goes without seeing Even, the clearer it is that his reaction yesterday had been based more on instinct than a tangible fear of Even, but that doesn’t make this any less of a bad idea. 

They’re just wrong for each other. Even breathes love, consumes it like he needs it to live, and Isak may be far too broken to satisfy his appetite. Even is straight out of one of Isak’s most secret dreams, but he learned long ago that dreams are dreams for a reason. 

Now all that’s left is making it clear that he’s not interested.

Even’s been sending him stupid memes all weekend, and the more ridiculous they get, the harder it is for Isak to ignore him. He’d never expected memes to be such effective foreplay before, but he’d never expected Even either, so what can you do. Isak is just staring at some outdated Kermit meme when he spots the devil himself, trying to decide between two oranges. 

He’s fucking cursed, but as he stares at Even’s long legs in his jeans, he can’t really think of it that way.

He has to shake his head to snap out of it, but by then it’s too late. Even’s already spotted him. He waves as he jogs over, and Isak can’t help but wave back. 

It’s not his  _ fault.  _ His body just hates him, and has no common sense, obviously. 

“Hi,” Even says, beaming. 

“Hi,” Isak replies, kind of breathlessly, before he remembers that he’s supposed to be strong and stoic in the face of all this. “Hi,” he says again, this time ruthlessly professional. This is a casual run-in with one of his neighbors, nothing more. It was bound to happen sometime. This isn’t the grocery store closest to their building, but the closest option means dealing with Creepy Steve. Whoever had hired that guy as a cashier had experienced a serious lapse in judgment. The way he’d fondled those vegetables Jonas had forced Isak to buy — well, that’s an image he’s been working hard to scrub out of his mind.

“What are you doing here?” Isak asks.

Even holds up his basket. There’s an entire box of donuts in there, and Isak’s mouth waters. He hadn’t had much to eat this week, and Eva had guilted him into using his paycheck to buy actual food, instead of just junk food. He’d regretted it as soon as he’d had his first taste of broccoli, but Eva had just read off the health benefits as he’d eaten them. “This is good training for your future medical career when, you know, you’ll be responsible for people’s health,” she’d said.

Isak thinks he could serve as an example of what  _ not  _ to do just fine, but there’s no arguing with Jonas and Eva when they’re a united front. They may not be dating anymore, but the most annoying parts of their combined force as a couple are still there. 

Even chuckles. “What am I doing here? Buying groceries, as people tend to do in a grocery store. I assume you’re doing the same?” 

Isak blushes.  _ Abort, abort, abort.  _ All he has to do is walk away. It had been so easy to tell Even to fuck off earlier — now that it actually matters, why is it so hard?

As if divorced from his brain and any sort of sense entirely, his mouth keeps on running. “You don’t know that. I could be on a secret mission from the government for all you know. See that old lady over there? Looks like she’s hiding something.”

Even looks over at the woman, who’s wearing a cardigan in a truly terrifying shade of hot pink. “The only thing she’s hiding is her fashion sense.”

“Says the guy still wearing Christmas socks.”

Even gasps in mock hurt. “It’s an artistic decision. Besides, the holidays never truly end.”

“According to the calendar, they do.”

“The calendar is a myth perpetuated by Western civilization.”

“Pretty effective myth, then,” Isak says.

Even laughs, then points to Isak’s empty basket. “Need some help with that?”

“With carrying this? Is this your version of carrying my books to class?”

Even rolls his eyes. “No, with your shopping, Valtersen. And I can come up with much better than carrying your books. You have so little faith in me.”

Isak shrugs. “I don’t know. From what I’ve seen so far — “

“You mean I haven’t been wooing you properly?”

A thrill shoots through Isak. He’s not entirely oblivious, but to hear it confirmed makes butterflies erupt in his stomach. Even is watching him carefully, gauging his reaction. That boy is many things, but subtle isn’t one of them. 

Isak coughs. “I can’t be  _ wooed,”  _ he says finally. 

“That just means you haven’t been, doesn’t mean you can’t be.”

The butterflies erupt again, and before Isak can fully will them down, Even clears his throat. “I actually wanted to talk to you about the Sonja thing. You got a little weird yesterday, and I was wondering if I did something wrong.”

That, at least, jolts Isak back to reality. He clenches the handle of the grocery basket tighter. “You didn’t.”

Even’s voice drops, and for the first time, Isak is hit with the sheer absurdity of the fact that they’re having this conversation in the goddamn fruit aisle. It’s late enough that no one’s here, and the heater is loud enough to offer them privacy, but still _.  _ He hates fruit on the best of days, and now, it just seems like the bananas are mocking him. 

“I really just want you to know that there’s nothing between us anymore. The breakup was friendly enough for me not to burn every trace of her from my room, and that picture really was an honest mistake.”

“Okay.”

“We were having issues way before we broke up.”

“Okay.”

“I’m really, really over her.”

“Okay.”

Even exhales loudly. “Why do I feel like you’re not listening to me?”

“I just don’t know why you’re justifying yourself to me.”

“You know why.”

“Is this because of the  _ wooing _ ?” It comes out exactly as bitter as Isak had hoped, but he feels a twinge of regret when Even flinches. 

“No, honestly,” Even says. “I just saw that you were uncomfortable, and I wanted to clear the air. I’d do that with any of my friends.”

Even reaches out to him instinctively, then catches himself at the last second. His hand falls down, where it hangs awkwardly at his side. For the first time, Isak notices the dark rings under Even’s eyes, the wrinkled sweatshirt he’s wearing. Maybe he’s not the only one who’s too invested already. 

Isak deflates. 

“I’m sorry,” Isak sighs. 

“You don’t have to apologize.”

Isak shuffles his feet. May as well get this over with now. Chances are, he’ll find out from Eva soon anyway, because Even doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would let something like this go. “I had an ex who cheated on me,” Isak confesses.

“What does this have to do with —  _ oh. _ ”

Isak rubs at his nose. “Yeah.”

Even scratches the back of his neck. “Fuck, Sonja and I didn’t even think of it as cheating. We stopped thinking of ourselves as a couple way before we broke up.”

“I don’t think my ex saw it as cheating either.”

Even sighs, and his shoulders slump. “Yeah, you’re right. I fucked up, Sonja and I both did, but it was definitely mutual, and I can promise you, no one got hurt.”

Isak gets that, he thinks. He gets that not all relationships are as toxic as he and Alex were. They don’t end in violence and pain, and the time they spent together really is enough to justify the end. He gets that some people are good, that  _ Even  _ is good, and sometimes, good people come into his life for a reason.

“I loved her, once, but by the time we broke up, that definitely wasn’t true anymore,” Even explains.

“You both knew that?”

Even nods. “We’re still friends. I think we’d been together for so long that we just hated the idea of finally ending it, even though we were better off.”

Isak bites his bottom lip. That, at least, is familiar. He knows all about holding on to things longer than they’re meant to last. 

In the end, it’s not really a decision at all, or maybe it’s a decision that had been made for him as soon as he’d met this ridiculous boy who somehow decided he was worthy of attention. 

Isak holds out his grocery basket. “You can hold it if you want.”

Even seems to get what this means, because his answering smile is full of unspoken promise. “Gladly.”

Isak actually does take Even’s basket from him too, because he’s all about equitable give and take. Even’s bouncing on his feet as Isak leads him around the store. Even must already be done, because he doesn’t add anything to his own basket. Another burst of giddiness hits him. Even is still here, just for him. In a goddamn grocery store. And they say romance is dead.

Even doesn’t say anything when Isak opts for the cheapest option of everything, but his eyebrows do shoot up when Isak starts piling lemons into the basket.

Isak coughs. “I need them for the lemon batteries.”

“Those are two words I never thought I’d hear together.”

“I, uh, volunteer at this group home, just doing dumb science projects and shit. Jonas got me into it.” 

Isak decides not to confess that Jonas had convinced him to volunteer because he thought it would be good for him. Jonas had been tactful enough not to say it in so many words, but it had been fucking obvious anyway. These kids are just as lost as he was, just as lonely in a home that isn’t really a home. They mask it with forced casualness, treating every shitty thing that had happened to them as if it had happened to someone else entirely, but Isak’s been there, done that, can see right through it. Isak hadn’t expected it to stick, but here he is, six months in. 

There’s this kid, Jack, who reminds him so much of himself it hurts. The fuck-up parents, the love for science he’d rather repress, right down to the grumpy face he makes whenever anyone has the audacity to believe in him. Isak had just gotten through to him a few weeks ago with a book on deep-ocean sea creatures he’d bought from a thrift shop. Jack had thrown it carelessly under his bed when Isak handed it to him, but he saw dog-eared pages the week after, and Jack is pretty bad at hiding the all the brochures he’s acquired from marine biology programs at universities all over the world. 

Isak hadn’t been able to stop smiling after that. Teenage Isak hadn’t had anyone like adult Isak in his life, and he thinks, reluctantly, that if he had, he might be marginally less fucked up.

Or not — maybe there was no saving him either way.

It’s not a chance he’s willing to take with these kids. But even if this means something to him, even if it means the entire fucking world maybe, Even doesn’t need to know that. 

But as he glances over at Even, Isak thinks he already does. He’s smiling at Isak again, but for once, Isak can read it for what it is. Fond, and a little awed, and a lot like Isak is in over his head. 

“You are full of surprises, Isak Valtersen,” Even says finally. 

Isak can already tell his blush is going to last for days. He’s not the person Even thinks he is. He’s not good, nor particularly kind. He just has too many regrets to count, and that’s nothing to be proud of.

But when Even looks at him like that, he doesn’t have the heart to break it to him. He can’t help but think he’s a goddamn fraud when Even casually switches the hand holding the basket so he can slip his free hand into Isak’s. His heart beats in double time, but he doesn’t pull away. 

Whatever, he may as well enjoy it while it lasts. 

They end up sitting on the curb outside the store, sharing the box of donuts. Even had gotten the glazed ones Isak likes, and he’s trying his hardest not to moan as he bites into his second one. Isak had tried to hold back at first, but it turns out he had nothing to worry about. Even is wolfing down his food almost as quickly as Isak, and there’s a spot of glaze at the corner of his lips. Isak can’t help but find it helplessly endearing. 

As they’re getting ready to leave, Even asks, “Can I take you out grocery shopping again?”

Isak blames his sugar high and temporary insanity when he says, “Yes.”

 

* * *

 

**day fifty.**

Grocery shopping turns into weekend afternoons spent playing FIFA, which turn into movie nights spent playing footsie under Even’s blankets, which turn into Even taking Isak to a showing of his short film, where he parades Isak around like he’s something to be proud of. Isak has no idea how Even keeps getting him to agree to these ridiculous demands, when he’s two seconds away from bolting every time Even is near. Isak is weak, is the only explanation. He’s weak, and being with Even is easy, and for the first time, he doesn’t have the courage to deny himself something that feels as natural as breathing.

“I think I may be in a relationship,” Isak announces one day, when he’s playing video games with the guys. The four of them (plus the requisite snacks) have to cram to fit inside the living room, but it’s worth it. Magnus lives with uptight business school types, and Mahdi’s apartment constantly smells like weed, which is fine under most circumstances, but is only irritating when his roommates won’t share. They’re already planning to get a place together for next year, and that’s the one decision Isak doesn’t have to second-guess.

“A relationship…with Even?” Jonas says, raising his eyebrows.

“No, with Ivanka Trump – of  _ course  _ with Even.”

“Okay?” Jonas says. Magnus and Mahdi look genuinely confused.

Isak throws his hands in the air. “Why aren’t any of you reacting?”

It takes a second, but it’s Magnus who speaks first. “Well, we all kind of thought you were already dating.”

Isak blinks at them. Blinks at them again. Then, a third time for good measure. “What gave you that impression?” Isak grits out.

“I don’t know, man, maybe the same reasons that make you think you’re in a relationship? You’re always with him, you never shut up about him, and when he texts you, you get these weird googly eyes,” Mahdi says.

Isak groans. “This is totally an accident.”

“You’re dating the most beautiful man to grace the Earth on accident?” Magnus says. “Some people have all the luck.”

Even will stake his life on the fact that the most beautiful man on Earth is actually Hugh Grant circa Notting Hill. Isak, in the other hand, nurses a soft spot for him circa Bridget Jones’s Diary, ever since he had accidentally watched it one insomnia-fueled night, though he’d never admitted that to anyone but Even. What can he say — falling for assholes and drowning his feelings in ice cream is too relatable a feeling. 

That had started an argument about Colin Firth vs. Hugh Grant, which had started a binge watch of the 1995 Pride & Prejudice series, and  _ that  _ started making Isak’s gut clench with the affection that always bubbles up whenever he sees Even gush about anything he loves. In the end, he found himself watching Even instead, who had jokingly sighed something about toxic masculinity. 

Isak had rolled his eyes, but didn’t correct him. In truth, it had been the absolute opposite of toxic masculinity, since this thing he feels for Even is undeniably very very sappy and very very gay. 

“We haven’t even kissed yet,” Isak says, his voice a pitch higher than usual. He’s never spent this long dancing around someone. Usually, he ends up in bed with whatever guy he picks up in the same night. The same thing had happened with Alex. He doesn’t _date,_ and he most certainly doesn’t date without all the fun stuff that goes with it. He’d always thought dating was a means to an end, but half the time, he’s just content to be in Even’s company.

The other half of the time, he’s ready to rip Even’s clothes off, but that’s expressly  _ because  _ he’s content to be in Even’s company, and that’s just a whole other mess. 

He hasn’t wanted to fuck anyone else in weeks — hasn’t so much as looked at anyone else. Even takes up all of his time anyway. Sex used to be the one thing that exhausted him enough to keep his mind from racing. Now, he makes do with Even. But when he lies down in bed at night, it’s not exhaustion dragging at his bones. It’s peace, and quiet, and the assurance that comes from the knowledge that he’ll wake up to a good morning text from Even. 

“Do you not want to kiss him?” Mahdi asks. 

“Of course I want to kiss him. The problem is that he hasn’t kissed me.”

“Then why don’t you just kiss him first?”

“I can’t do that,” Isak says indignantly. 

“Why the hell not? We’re not in some 19th-century romance novel. You’re two strong, independent dudes who like each other. You’re allowed to make a move.”

“But what if he doesn’t want me to?”

Jonas is the closest to him, so he’s the one who pats Isak on the arm sympathetically. “Man, I can tell you with almost total certainty that Even would definitely not mind if you made a move.”

“In fact, I’ll mind if you  _ don’t  _ make a move,” Mahdi pipes up. “All this pining is getting ridiculous.”

“I’m not  _ pining,”  _ Isak protests, but he only gets three pairs of raised eyebrows for his efforts. 

Another notification from Even pops up on his screen, and Isak can’t contain his soppy smile fast enough.  _ Adam Sandler looks like someone who looks like Adam Sandler but isn’t really Adam Sandler? Discuss.  _ Then,  _ This is the man you’ve decided to give your heart to,  _ just because Isak had mentioned, one fucking time, that he had kinda enjoyed Click. 

Isak resists the urge to tell him that he may be in the process of giving his heart to someone else entirely. Even should be happy about this for the mere fact that it isn’t Adam fucking Sandler. 

Two minutes later, he’s still cradling his phone in his hands like it’s precious, like there aren’t two cracks on the screen and scratches all over the camera lens. Replying to Even is hard, sometimes, even when they’re just fucking around — when Isak is too overwhelmed by his presence, the mere fact that he’s choosing to spend his Saturday afternoon lazily texting Isak, of all people. He isn’t aware that he’s blushing until Jonas coughs, bringing him back to the real world. 

So maybe his friends have a point. 

* * *

**day fifty-five.**

Their first kiss is simple, unplanned, and unlike anything Isak would have expected from Even. 

Isak had dragged Even to the grocery store as soon as he came back from his last class. Jonas had gotten an article published in their school’s political science research journal, and a celebration was in order. Jonas had tried to play it off like it was no big deal, but Isak knows better. Jonas couldn’t stop grinning after he got that email, and Jonas deserves something nice. Jonas has sacrificed enough for Isak — the least he can do is cook his best friend dinner.

(Or get his boything to cook it for him. It’s basically the same thing.)

Isak hadn’t expected that afternoon to be filled with more than one first, but as Even kisses him, right there under the fluorescent lighting, he can’t complain.

“What was that for?” Isak asks, when they separate. He already wants to kiss Even again, but maybe  _ again  _ isn’t strong enough. He wants to keep kissing Even, forever maybe, and for the first time, forever doesn’t seem like an impossibility. Even traces a finger across Isak’s face — his cheekbones, his nose, the curve of his mouth. He lingers there the longest. 

Even eventually leans back, glancing around to see if anyone’s watching them. No one is. Even doesn’t seem like the type to care about PDA, and with a start, Isak realizes that Even had been worried about  _ him.  _ Isak is more conscious of his surroundings now, but everything else had faded away during that kiss. He doesn’t think that would’ve been the case with Alex or anyone else. Isak searches inside himself for a sign of regret, any residual fear, but finds none. 

Maybe the wait had been a good thing. Now that he’s had a taste of him, Isak can’t imagine a world without Even’s kisses. 

Even’s face is flushed, his breathing heavy. All from one relatively chaste kiss, but Isak can’t blame him. He’s not faring any better. 

“Can’t I kiss my boyfriend?” Even says. 

Isak’s heart flutters. “Boyfriend?”

Even maintains the distance between them, but can’t keep himself from lifting a hand to Isak’s waist. “What else do you want me to call you? My companion? The light of my life? Man of my dreams?”

“You really think I’m the man of your dreams?”

Even rolls his eyes fondly. “What gave it away? The fact that I’ve been hanging out with you nonstop since we met? The fact that I chased you like a fool when you couldn’t give less of a shit about me? Or, you know — “

“You never even said,” Isak says, a little petulantly. The boys are never going to let him live this down. Isak has never been the most observant person in the room, but apparently he’s the most oblivious when it comes to his own life. 

“Said what?”

“That we were dating.” He pokes a finger into Even’s chest. “You never even asked me out.”

“Yes, I did! I asked to go grocery shopping with you.”

Isak’s jaw drops. “That doesn’t count.”

“I was trying to be smooth.”

“That was smooth? I thought you were supposed to be good at this,” Isak says. 

“Be honest, if I had asked you out two weeks ago, what would you have said?”

Isak hesitates. The truth is, if Even had been completely honest about what the next few weeks would have in store — if he had warned Isak about the not-dates that turned out to be dates after all, the ease in which they fit together, the sheer force of Isak’s desire, he would’ve run. Loneliness has always felt safe. But feeling safe and real safety are two very different things, and he’s beginning to think he’s never really had the latter until now. “I’m glad it happened this way,” Isak says finally.

Even’s eyes crinkle. “Good. Now, will you be my boyfriend?”

“You don’t want to introduce me as the light of your life? The man of your dreams?”

“No, babe, we can’t make everyone jealous.”

“Jealous of you or me?”

“Jealous of  _ us.  _ This.”

Isak laughs. “Jealous of the fact that our first kiss was in the middle of a grocery store?”

Even sighs dramatically. “I was waiting for a sign.”

“A sign,” Isak repeats skeptically. 

Even points behind Isak, where there’s pre-made cookie dough, he exact brand that Elise had complained about. “The beginning of us,” Even says. 

Isak rolls his eyes, but his heart thuds loudly in his chest. “You could make anything into a sign.”

“I know, isn’t that beautiful?” Even laughs, a little giddily, and Isak can’t help but be swept away by the sound of it. He used to think Even was the kind of guy who believed in big, dramatic signs — the kind typical of his epic romances. But Isak is starting to get it, now. This thing between them made up of simple, everyday signs. The beauty is in the combined force of them, in crafting something extraordinary out of the mundane. 

Even pulls Isak closer, so his lips brush Isak’s cheek. “There’s no stopping us, Isak Valtersen.”

“You make it sound like we’re trying to conquer the world.”

“Maybe we are.”

* * *

 

**day fifty-seven.**

Their second kiss is something straight out of a movie.

“I can’t see,” Isak says, as Even pulls him along. Even had wrapped a blindfold over his eyes as soon as they’d finished dinner. After they’d cleared the air yesterday, Even insisted they go on a date — a real one, with all the the tension and the anticipation that went along with it. Isak took thirty minutes to find a shirt, and it had taken Eva’s help for him to settle on a forest green button-down that brought out the color of his eyes. The boys even helped. Jonas let him use his fancy cologne, though that may have been a subtle dig at his personal hygiene. Mahdi let him take a few hits from his joint, not enough to mess with his head, but enough to calm him down marginally. Magnus even contributed somewhat. All the invasive questions about gay sex only reminded Isak that was a thing that may actually happen, though that made it both easier and harder to walk out the front door.

Even had taken him to a lowkey pizza place that neither of them had tried, and Isak couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when he sat down. A part of him had been scared Even would take him someplace fancy, someplace where he couldn’t be himself. He should’ve realized that Even knew him better than that. 

He should’ve also realized that Even couldn’t let their first real date end there, even if it was already late. Which brings him to  _ this.  _

“It’s dark,” Isak whines. They’ve been walking for almost half an hour already, and he has no idea where he is. They’re definitely inside now, and he’s quickly overheating under all his layers. He instinctively reaches up to shove the blindfold off, but Even knocks his hands back down to his sides. Isak is not above pouting like a five-year-old, and Even totally notices, if his laugh is anything to go by. 

“That’s kind of the whole point of a blindfold, which you agreed to,” Even says happily.

At this point, Isak would agree to almost anything Even suggested. It didn’t fucking count. 

“I don’t like this.”

“That’s also kind of the whole point of a blindfold.”

“I don’t know,” Isak jokes, “I can think of at least ten ways to use this blindfold that are way more fun than this.”

“And we can test them out, in very, very vivid detail later. But for now — “ Even rips off the blindfold. 

It’s still dark.

After a few blinks, Isak finally figures out that they’re in an empty movie theater. It’s one of the smaller ones, but the emptiness is still weird. He doesn’t have much money or time to pay for actual movies anymore, but even when he had, he had never seen a theater completely devoid of other people. Isak turns to Even, but he beats him to it. “You remember my friend Mutta? He works here, and he owes me a favor for not telling Elias that he used all his bath bombs.”

“He kicked everyone out?” Isak’s voice is small. This is absurd. The fanciest date Alex had ever taken him on involved burgers from a restaurant instead of the fast food they always opted for, and Isak hasn’t exactly been on a real date since. 

Even chuckles. “He’s not  _ that  _ good. This theater wasn’t showing anything, and we’re only going to be here for a little bit anyway.” He guides Isak to a seat near the back, where popcorn is already waiting for them. Isak is struck dumb again, but Even barely seems to notice. He’s vibrating with contained excitement, and in that moment, it feels like a betrayal for Isak to get too caught up in his own head, to panic about what this all  _ means.  _

He’s not used to mattering this much. He’s not used to being a thing that someone actually put effort into, and he can’t tell whether it’s exhausting or exhilarating or a strange mix of both. 

Even wraps his arm around Isak’s shoulders, and the fears dissipate, just for a second. Just long enough for Isak to get caught up in the short film that’s playing on-screen.

Isak isn’t surprised when the film turns out to be one of Even’s — he does have a flair for the dramatic — but his eyebrows do shoot up when he notices the title. 

“An Epic Love Story?” he asks.

Even shrugs. “Working title, but you’ll get it.”

And, within five minutes, he does.

It starts with two young boys playing with Legos, and Isak recognizes that they’re building a Millenium Falcon. There’s no sound, but Isak can tell they’re familiar with each other. Isak smiles when the older boy cuffs the other one on the back of his head when he puts a Lego piece in his mouth. From his side, Even takes his hand, tentatively, fingers caressing Isak’s like a question. 

None of that — Isak squeezes back, hard. It’s an answer, and a promise. 

The film flits to them as teenagers, with the complete Millenium Falcon lying on the boy’s bedside table, then as young adults. Now, Isak can finally hear snatches of their conversation, and it’s clear that they haven’t seen each other in years. The younger boy is more world-weary, and he walks around with a perpetual scowl, daring the world to fuck with him. Isak doesn’t know if Even had coached the actor on Isak’s unique brand of jadedness or maybe he really is that much of a cliché, but Isak sees so much of himself that breathing is suddenly uncomfortable. 

It’s Even’s turn to squeeze his hand, and his lungs relax a little.

As the boys slowly reconcile, Isak is left reeling at how familiar the imagery is. Smoking on a bed, sharing truths. Half-burnt cheese toasties. The gooey inside of a chocolate-chip cookie. Even doesn’t delve into any individual scene too deeply, and the entire sequence happens in a matter of minutes. Still, Isak can feel the significance of each individual moment, each accidental brush of their fingers, each time their eyes lock. It feels like years. It feels like an entire lifetime. The last scene is of the same Lego Millenium Falcon from before, but broken this time, probably in the intervening years. When the younger man tells the other  _ you can fix it, if you want,  _ Isak actually laughs. 

Even beams. 

When the boys start to kiss onscreen, Isak can’t hold back any longer. He cups Even’s chin in his hands and leans in slowly, just to feel Even’s breath on his face. He wants to remember every second of this — the hitch in Even’s breath, the sudden widening of his eyes, as if he’s actually  _ surprised _ . Isak could laugh, Isak could scream, but kissing Even seems more important than anything else right now. 

Even shudders when their lips finally meet, and Isak can feel him melting into his touch. He draws circles on Even’s jawline with his thumb, but that’s not enough for either one of them. Even moves his arm to Isak’s waist and pulls him closer, until Isak’s practically crawling into his lap. Even kisses him so thoroughly that Isak can feel it all the way down to his toes. 

Their second kiss is something straight out of a movie.

When they finally pull apart, panting, Even asks, “Did you like it?”

“What do you think?” 

Even plays with Isak’s curls, and Isak’s eyes fall half-shut. “I think I want to hear you say it.”

Isak rolls his eyes. “I liked it, you asshole. Are you happy now?”

Even scratches his head. “I don’t know. I may have to hear you say it again, more slowly this time, maybe with more glowing praise?”

Isak punches him in the shoulder softly. “We wouldn’t want you to get an ego now.”

“Oh, I already have one. I mean, I got you, didn’t I? If that doesn’t inflate someone’s ego, I don’t know what would.”

Isak rolls his eyes again, but his heart swells. Still, there’s something he has to get off his chest. “It’s not us, is it?”

Even takes a moment to respond, and his smile is contemplative. “No — in another universe, maybe.”

In another universe, if they had met sooner. If Isak hadn’t been broken to pieces first. If finding Even wasn’t a novelty but something familiar, something like home. 

(He thinks it feels like that, anyway.)

“Good,” Isak says, nodding. Their story is still theirs alone. That suddenly seems important, as the full weight of the night sets in. Even had done this, all for him. After Alex, Isak had been prepared for more pain, but he never thought he would have to prepare himself for happiness. Now that it’s within reach, he’s not quite sure what to do when he still feels so utterly undeserving of it. 

Even presses a kiss to his forehead. “I will make a movie about you someday, though.”

“What will you call it?”

“The Boy Who Can’t Tell When He’s in a Relationship.”

Isak rolls his eyes, laughing. “Oh my God, shut up. I figured it out in the end, didn’t I?”

“When I  _ kissed  _ you.”

“No, I think I knew from the beginning,” Isak admits. “I just didn’t want to label it, in case, in case — “

“In case it didn’t last?”

“In case you got sick of me,” Isak finishes. He tries to shrug it off, but Even is as annoyingly perceptive as always. 

He tilts Isak’s chin upwards, forcing Isak to look him right in the eyes. Isak has to grip Even’s arms hard to keep himself steady. “This movie wasn’t us, not exactly, but that title was,” Even says, softly. 

“You think this is an epic romance?” 

“The most epic.”

“Even though there’s no tragedy?”

“Especially because of that.”

Isak cracks a smile. “You’re going soft.”

Even presses a fleeting kiss to Isak’s nose. “That’s not a bad thing. Not if I can woo you.”

“I hate to tell you this, but this is not how normal people do their wooing. I would’ve been perfectly happy with flowers and chocolate.” He would’ve been perfectly happy with Even choosing him, simple as that, but Even apparently never does anything by halves. 

“Isak Valtersen, what gave you the impression that I would woo you like a  _ normal person?” _

Even’s eyes are so bright, his expression so genuine that Isak has to kiss him all over again. This time, it gets heated fast, with Even’s tongue exploring his mouth and his hands exploring the bare skin of his back, his ass, the shudder he can’t contain when Even brushes his fingers over Isak’s nipples. From there, they can’t keep their hands off each other, and it’s a miracle that Isak regains enough brainpower to realize that they probably shouldn’t fuck for the first time in a movie theater. Mutta shakes his head at them as they walk out the door, hand in hand. Isak had at least tried to tame his hair, but Even wears his wrinkled shirt and puffy lips like badges of honor. 

* * *

Even can’t even have sex like a normal person. It takes thirty minutes for them to move from the living room to the hallway outside Even’s bedroom, and by then, Isak is a panting mess. Even presses sloppy kisses all over Isak’s face, his throat, but he refuses to let them get dirtier than that. The front of Isak’s jeans is rubbing painfully over his dick, but Even is still holding back. He’s never had to wait this long for sex, and the anticipation is driving him a little nuts. He gasps as Even presses another kiss behind the shell of his ear, where his skin is most sensitive. With any other guy, by now, Isak would be moaning into a pillow with a dick up his ass, but Even seems to exist to subvert Isak’s expectations.

Isak is usually all about that, but usually, his dick isn’t this hard either, so he’s allowed to be a little frustrated right now.

Isak jerks away from Even. It takes all of his willpower to keep his lips free long enough to say, “Are you going to fuck me or not?”

Even tilts his head. “Do you want me to fuck you?” he asks innocently, as if he doesn’t know exactly what they’re doing here. He’s a fucking  _ tease,  _ and goddammit, if Isak didn’t lo –

_ Fuck. _

To distract himself, Isak grabs Even’s ass to pull him closer, grinds his hard dick against Even’s, and is rewarded with a moan for his effort. “What do you think?”

Even refuses to give in. “Hm, is that a banana in your pocket or – “

Isak growls and tackles him against the door. The impact is loud enough for the neighbors to hear, but he doesn’t care, not when he has Even falling apart in front of him. Isak presses a kiss on one cheek, then the other, making sure to brush his lips against Even’s skin longer than necessary. If Even’s determined to drag this out as long as possible, two can play at that game. Even shudders under him, and Isak has to press his forehead against Even’s shoulder to collect himself.

Even presses another kiss to Isak’s sweaty forehead, and says, “We should go inside – “ His free hand scrabbles against the door to the bedroom.

“ _ Finally _ .”

“You horndog _ ,”  _ Even gasps, mock-hurt.

Isak can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, yeah, I’m horny, we get it, now can we please get to it?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were using me for my body.”

“You should be flattered. It’s not every day you get Isak Valtersen objectifying you.”

Even chuckles, kissing him again on the nose. “No, I guess not.”

He opens the door to the bedroom, and Isak gasps.

There are candles on every available surface. They must be scented – even half-crazed with lust, Isak can identify a sweet vanilla scent that puts him at ease immediately. The candles infuse the room with a soft glow, and Even looks even more beautiful here, ethereal, like he belongs to another world entirely. Isak wants to scoop him up and take him away from all the bad in his life, smooth out the circles under his eyes, the crease on his forehead when he gets worried.

Isak looks around the room, swallowing down his anxiety. He’s always told himself this is more than he’s meant to have. Now that he has it, he’s not quite sure what to do with it. His heart is beating too loudly for Isak to think.

The longer Isak takes to react, the more nervous Even looks.

Finally, Isak says, “No flower petals on the bed?” His lips tremble slightly, but that doesn’t stop a wide grin from completely overwhelming his face. Even beams back at him, and the moment seems to stretch on forever. Even’s hands are holding both of his so tightly they feel like one, and Isak’s breathing is so heavy he’s sure Even can catalog every breath. This is it for Isak, he knows suddenly. Even is  _ it.  _

That awareness will scare him tomorrow, but right here, there’s just now _.  _

“I thought flowers would make a mess,” Even jokes, but Isak can see the tension that’s still there.

Isak takes one step closer, until their lips are only an inch apart. The tension between them is deafening. “This feels like a fire hazard.”

“Shush, it’s romantic.”

“Not if we catch on fire.”

“I wouldn’t let you catch on fire.”

“Dude, I don’t think you’d have a choice, because you’d also be burning up?”

Even tucks a strand of his hair behind his ear. “Sounds like a great way to go, catching on fire with you. Kinda hot, actually.”

Isak takes another step, until his lips are brushing Even’s. “You didn’t have to do all of this for me.”

“You deserve it.”

Isak falls all over again.

Even undresses him slowly, making sure to kiss every strip of newly-revealed skin. He whispers sweet things into every nook of Isak’s body.  _ You’re beautiful  _ into Isak’s collarbones.  _ I love your skin  _ on Isak’s stomach.  _ You’re so hot, you denature my proteins  _ at Isak’s thighs, which are already a little ticklish.

Isak bursts out laughing. “What’s wrong with you?” But he’s still stroking the hair matted to Even’s forehead, unable to contain his soppy grin.

“Science isn’t a turn-on for you?” Even asks in mock confusion, and Isak hits him with a pillow.

Sex has never been like this before. It’s always a rush to get his clothes off, to get himself open as quickly as possible. Transactional. This is the kind of comfortable sex he never thought he’d have. This is the kind of sex that belongs to long-term couples, couples in love.

For a second, that doesn’t scare him.

Even is so careful with him he could cry, and when he thrusts inside slowly, so slowly, it’s Isak who urges him to go faster. It’s Isak who quickens the pace even more when he clenches around Even, because he’s so goddamn full he can’t stand it. It’s Isak who asks Even to flip them around, so he can look straight at him when he comes. It’s Isak who places Even’s hand over his heart because  _ you have it, you have all of me. _

After they’ve had a moment to recover, Even presses their foreheads together. Isak lets out a contented sigh.

Suddenly, Even says, “Baby, are you crying?”

For the first time, Isak notices the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. They’re not fully waterworks, but they’re undeniably there. Isak jerks upwards. God _ ,  _ he’s so stupid for getting this sentimental, and now Even’s going to laugh at him, because who does this –

Even takes his hand, and ever-so-gently, brings them to his own eyes. They’re wet.

“I love you,” Even says softly. “I love you so much.”

Isak lays his head back down on the pillow, then slowly presses his lips to Even’s. Isak doesn’t say it that night – hell, he doesn’t know when he will, if he can. But he falls asleep soundly in Even’s arms, and for now, it’s enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more!! will it stay fluffy?? are they gonna live happily ever after??
> 
> haha y'all know me too well to think that.


	3. let me walk to the top of the big night sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it for Isak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright my friends!! this is the end!!! i hope y'all enjoy!!

**day one-hundred.**

Even first episode after they get together takes them both completely by surprise. Isak’s been running on fumes all week, trying to finish his lab reports and the World Cinema essay he’s been putting off. His bank account had taken a hit from the gas leak he and Jonas had to fix last month, and the extra shifts he’s been taking to make up for it aren’t helping either. Luckily, working a coffeeshop means free caffeine, which is the only thing making this bearable. 

If he’s being honest, this entire month has been a disaster. His grades haven’t been the greatest lately, and he’s on the cusp of losing his scholarship. Worst of all, times like this always bring Alex to the forefront of his mind. Alex telling him that he’d never be good enough for school, to be a  _ doctor,  _ no less —  _ Isak, don’t you know you have to be smart for that?  _ Isak would be much happier at home looking pretty, Alex always said, leave the heavy lifting to people who were actually capable of it.

Usually, remembering all of that only spurs Isak to work harder. Now, it just exhausts him even more.

In the midst of all that, it’s no wonder Isak had missed Even’s own spiral. 

That doesn’t stop him from blaming himself when Even runs outside naked on one Tuesday night after they’d fucked, claiming that he had to buy McDonald’s at that exact moment, or else _.  _ He’d been staying up too late to finish some project he’d been working on with Mikael, smoking too much, and Isak had never figured out they were risks, had never been  _ told  _ they were risks. He can’t help but resent the pitying looks that Even’s moms shoot him afterwards, when they take Even home from the police station together. 

“It’s not your fault,” Helen says.

Isak nods rigidly. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows this is true. Isak is Even’s boyfriend, not his keeper, and sometimes, even the best precautions don’t help. But Even hadn’t trusted him with this, hadn’t trusted Isak to be capable of looking out for him. Isak knows he’s a fuck-up. He knows can’t solve his own issues, much less anyone else’s. Even had never treated him like he was less than anyone else, but it turns out silence is just as painful as outright rejection. Isak didn’t realize how much this would hurt, but as they settle a sleeping Even into his childhood bed, tears sting at his eyes. 

“Honey — “ Claire reaches out for his shoulder, but he flinches back.

This is fucking stupid. He’s finally being given the chance to do something for Even, and he can’t even hold himself together. He breathes in, steeling himself. What would Even want? He wouldn’t want Isak to punish himself, first of all, wouldn’t want to see him hurt, especially if he thinks he was the cause of it. There’s a time and place for this, later, but for now — 

“What should I do?” he asks, voice breaking. 

Claire and Helen look at each other, and sigh. 

“You should visit. He’d want that, I think.”

“That’s it?” Isak has never felt so utterly helpless. He used to think nothing could be worse than Alex’s rages, when Isak could never force himself to move, to talk back, to pretend he was far braver than he was. That’s nothing compared to this. Back then, it was like watching himself from outside his own body. Now, everything is so much that it threatens to overwhelm him. 

“You two can sort through the details later, and I’m sure Even won’t want us to lecture his boyfriend on his own mental health. This is a conversation you two should have, together.”

Isak breathes in deep.  _ Together, together.  _

“Can I stay here tonight? I can just sleep on the floor?” he asks, a little desperately. He can’t fathom the thought of leaving Even like this, all alone. It feels as grotesque as ripping away a part of himself and leaving it to die. 

“Don’t be silly. We have a guest bedroom,” Claire tells him.

Isak shakes his head. “I don’t want to intrude — “

“You’re not intruding. You belong here.”

Isak nods again, but this time, it’s real. He eventually falls into a fitful sleep, but it’s sleep nonetheless. 

Over the next few weeks, Isak practically moves in with the Bech Næsheims. Every moment he’s not at school or at work, he’s over at their place. Even barely wakes up, doesn’t do much in the way of talking, but Isak is there every step of the way. He’s pretty much an expert at Helen’s chicken noodle soup recipe now, since that’s the only thing Even will eat when he’s feeling down. 

The first time Even looks at him,  _ really  _ looks at him, his stare is so blank that it makes Isak feel uneasy for days. A couple of months ago, it would’ve been enough to make Isak walk away. Even deserves the world, and Isak is unequipped for all of this. He’ll just fuck up again, and the next time, something much worse than Even’s pride could be harmed. 

But something stops him. He remembers Even’s smile and his jokes and and his faith in Isak’s goodness and  _ oh —  _ maybe this is what love feels like. 

No one had ever warned him how hard it would be to walk away from this.  

“You should leave,” is the first thing Even tells him. Isak is perched on the side of Even’s bed, futilely trying to get  _ something  _ out of his Genetics textbook. Watching the rise and fall of Even’s chest is much more interesting, though, even as his own chest clenches at the full weight of Even’s deadened stare. 

“Why would I do that?” Isak asks. He forces himself to calmly, casually turn another page, as if his heart isn’t beating in double time.

“You don’t have to be here.”

“Do you not want me here?”

Even doesn’t answer, just turns so that he’s lying on his back. He stares at the ceiling dully.

Isak quietly sets down his textbook before making his way to the bed. He’s careful to only sit at the edge, to take up the least space possible, and Even doesn’t comment. Even has  never looked quite this small. Isak longs to wrap the comforter more tightly around him, keep him safe and warm and content, but he doesn’t dare touch. 

“If you want me to go, then I’ll go,” Isak says. “But if you’ll let me, I’d really, really like to stay.”

Even sighs. “Why?”

Isak can feel the tears at his eyes, and he quickly wipes them away before Even can see. “Because I care about you,” he says, his voice trembling. 

“I’m not good for you,” Even tells him, tiredly, like it’s obvious, like it’s not breaking Isak’s heart in two. 

Isak balls his hands into fists. “No.”

“No?”

“You don’t get to martyr yourself  because you think you’re going to hurt me, I’d like to remind you that I could hurt you just as badly, and that’s even more likely, because I’m kinda a dick. Neither of us know what’s going to happen tomorrow, so let’s just enjoy this now and worry about the rest when it happens.”

Even is silent for so long that Isak starts to think that he’s not going to answer at all, that he’s exhausted all his energy for the day, when he says, “You shouldn’t put yourself down to make me feel better. It doesn’t help.”

For a minute, Isak forgets to breathe entirely. He wonders when this will finally get old, when Even will stop surprising him and challenging him with all that he is. That future seems impossible to fathom. A smile tugs at his lips as he says, “Okay.”

As most things do, it gets better with time. They do eventually have that conversation, together. Haltingly, at first, because Even is wary of being treated him like a child, and Isak finally finds out why he and Sonja had broken up. 

They agree to leave parties earlier, because Isak doesn’t need to stay up all night to feel alive when he has Even. Isak gets Even to agree to smoke less, if Isak cuts back on his smoking too. Even doesn’t go too much into the medical side of things, and Isak gets that, but Even does agree to let Isak put a reminder on his phone to actually take his medication. Therapy usually happens on Friday mornings, which Isak had somehow always missed because he’s allergic to waking up before noon if he doesn’t have to. Even doesn’t want Isak to change his schedule to see him off, but maybe they could get lunch after. 

In the end, it turns out love takes a lot more communication and work than Isak had expected, but in the end, it’s love _.  _

“Thanks for staying with me,” Even says weakly, when they’re finally back in his living room. They already have plans to order a pizza and hole up in his apartment all weekend so Even can catch up on his assignments. It won’t be the most exciting of times, but Isak is surprised at how excited he is to just hang out with his boyfriend. 

Isak presses a soft kiss to Even’s lips. “You deserve it.”

* * *

 

**day one-hundred and forty-six.**

Spring unfurls slowly, languidly, and with it comes some new beginnings that feel so inevitable that they don’t feel like beginnings at all. Isak spends more time in Even’s apartment than his own now, and with him come the sparse belongings he’s acquired over the past couple of years. He has his own drawer in Even’s bedroom, and he pretends not to notice that Even has emptied out another one for him already. He keeps his own toothbrush in the bathroom, because it seems ridiculous to walk up three flights of stairs right before he goes to bed every night. He has to preserve his energy for much funner things, after all. Isak and Even have even started inviting their their friends over for dinner, and though they’ve never explicitly said that they’re hosting as a couple, Jonas shoots him knowing looks every time. 

It’s so heartbreakingly domestic that he should’ve known it couldn’t last. 

They’re at a welcome back party for Yousef, one of Even’s friends. He’s been in Turkey for the past couple of months, apparently, and their group hasn’t felt the same since he left. Given how often they talk about him, Isak feels like he knows him already. Isak still can’t get over the fact that he has friends now — partly by proxy, but friends who aren’t Jonas and Eva nonetheless. There’s Mutta, Mikael, Adam, and Elias, who have known Even for so long that they’re more like brothers. There’s Sana, who was lab partners with Isak last semester, but who Isak can now comfortably call a friend. As fellow bitter humans, they get each other. There’s Noora, whose past with her ex William makes her one of the few people who Isak can sit in comfortable silence with. 

It’s the last place he would’ve expected to see Alex, but there’s no denying that it’s him standing there in Elias’ living room, laughing with his arm slung around the shoulders of some boy Isak doesn’t recognize. For such a big city, Oslo is really fucking small. Isak’s heart starts racing fast — after more than a year, after finding Even and happiness, Alex still has this effect on him. 

Isak looks behind him, but Even’s already gone to the kitchen to get drinks. 

Isak squares his shoulders. It’s a big party. The whole place is packed. If he plays his cards right, he won’t run into Alex at all. He isn’t  _ allowed  _ this anymore, this control, this death grip over Isak’s head and heart like he had never walked away.

Isak slowly makes his way to the kitchen, weaving through the crowd of people. Magnus tries to say hi, but he leaves him with just a quick hello and a wave. He’s too sloshed to notice anyway, and he has his eyes on some girl he’ll inevitably fail at hooking up with. 

In the beginning, when Isak had refused to see a therapist, Jonas had compromised by forcing him to learn some breathing exercises. He still remembers them now. In, out, steady. He counts the number of brown sweaters he sees to ground himself in the moment. One, two, three — 

“Hi, sweetheart,” Alex says from behind him. A shiver runs up Isak’s spine. Isak can feel Alex’s breath on the back of his neck, and his dinner is threatening to make a comeback. “Sweetheart” isn’t Even’s usual choice of endearment, but he’s called Isak that once or twice himself. From Even, though, it had made Isak shiver in a different way entirely. Now, he just feels dirty, used, all of sixteen and alone and full of self-loathing again. 

Isak stares resolutely at the beer cans in front of him. His knuckles are gripping the counter so hard they’ve turned white.  “What do you want?”

“Long time no see.”

“There’s a good reason for that.”

Alex slides in front of Isak, wedging himself between Isak and the counter. They’re suddenly chest to chest, and Isak can’t breathe, can’t think. He recoils, but it only seems to fuel Alex, and his grin stretches wide. 

Isak can’t believe he was ever swept away by that smile. He can see it for all its ugliness now. 

Alex reaches out to fix Isak’s messy hair, but he flinches. Alex laughs, leans back against the counter lazily, like he has all the time in the world. His eyes run down Isak’s body, and he feels like he’s stripped naked, all the way down to his disgusting insides. Even had convinced him to wear the tight green shirt they’d bought together last month, but Isak is already regretting that now. 

Back then, Alex had gotten a kick out of dressing him up too — he had the money for it. It was all impossibly skinny jeans and sheer shirts when they went out clubbing, clothes that Isak had never felt quite like himself in. Alex must know that Isak couldn’t have picked out this shirt, and that awareness makes Isak’s stomach curdle. Alex sees him for what he is — a little boy playing dress-up, playing at anything to keep from exposing his own loneliness. 

“Aren’t you happy to see me? You never returned my calls,” Alex says. 

He had been tempted, once, but resisting that urge is the kindest thing he’s ever done for himself. 

“Fuck off — you know why I didn’t want to talk to you.”

Alex pouts, but it feels like a grotesque farce. “I don’t, though.”

Isak clenches his fists. He tries to side-step him, but Alex blocks his path back to the living room. Panic rises in his chest. Alex can’t hurt him here, in front of all these people, but that’s not the only way Alex knows how to hurt. 

“I don’t want to talk about this with you,” Isak hisses.

“What we had was good, sweetheart. I don’t know why you had to leave.”

Isak laughs mirthlessly. “Good? You thought what we had was  _ good?”  _

The thing is, Isak had too, once. That’s the whole fucking problem. 

“I saw you what you were.”

Isak squares his jaw. He still can’t meet Alex’s eyes. “And what’s that?”

Alex tries grabbing his chin, but Isak jerks back. Alex chuckles again, and Isak has never heard a crueler sound. “You were just desperate for someone to love you.”

“Fuck off.”

“You needed me.”

“I said  _ fuck off.” _

“Face it, you were so fucking needy you were willing to do anything.“

Isak finally jerks his head up, eyes glinting with anger. “I don’t need you, I never fucking needed you.”

Isak manages to stun him into silence for a whole second, and he’s ready to count it as a victory when the laughter starts. 

Ice shoots down Isak’s spine. The first time he’s stood up to him, and all he gets is faint amusement. Alex has never been able to take him seriously, and he doesn’t know why he’d thought that would change now that Isak’s learned to take himself seriously. 

He suddenly wants to crawl inside himself and hide.

“Right, I forgot, you have a  _ boyfriend  _ now.” 

It sounds like a dirty word coming from Alex, but Isak refuses to let that ruin Even for him. He keeps his head high. “Yeah, I do.”

“And you love him, right? And you think he loves you?”

“I  _ know _ that.”

Alex shakes his head in mock disappointment. “Haven’t I taught you any better? People lie, Isak. They’re fake, and they’ll  let you down .”

“You let me down, and Even won’t.“

“Are you sure about that?”

Alex looks up, and makes eye contact with something behind Isak. When Isak whips his head around, Even is holding two beer bottles, looking at Alex with wary eyes. “What’s going on here?” he says. 

Isak struggles to swallow down his anxiety. He’s been so careful not to mention Alex in the past few months. Even knows about him in the most abstract way possible, but the vague notion of Isak’s asshole ex and meeting that asshole ex in person are two very different things. Alex had known all the worst parts of him — had exploited the worst parts of him — and he refuses to let Even see that lost sixteen-year-old boy. Even loves  _ this,  _ this functioning mask that Isak’s barely been holding on to for the past year. It’s taken only minutes with Alex to tear that apart. 

“Nothing. Let’s get out of here,” Isak pleads, grabbing Even’s hand to pull him away. 

To Isak’s surprise, Alex says, “Even, the man of the hour!”

Even stands stock still, his face pale. He stiffens as Alex claps him on the back, but he doesn’t move. Isak tries to tug him away again, to no avail. 

Alex keeps his hand on Even’s shoulder, and Isak itches to rip him away. This looks wrong, worlds colliding when they existed in entirely different universes. The worst part is, Isak doesn’t know which one he belongs to. Maybe he’s been pretending all along. Maybe Alex is back because Isak wasn’t meant to escape this, maybe it’s futile to try. 

Alex slides his hand down Even’s arm, and Isak stomach churns uncomfortably. “Have you gotten my last texts?” he asks Even, with the familiarity of someone who’s known him for much longer than the past five minutes. 

All the color drains from Isak’s face. Even doesn’t say a word, but his silence is just as loud.

“What are you talking about?” Isak says, struggling to keep his voice even. 

Alex blinks in faux innocence. “Hasn’t Even told you that I’ve been giving him advice about you?”

“What’s he talking about?” Isak asks Even, who just hangs his head and looks down at his shoes, and that’s when Isak goes cold entirely. 

There have existed so many Isaks over the years. As a child, he’d been as innocent as any other. Teenage Isak was a little bit of a shit, but he could see the world more clearly. Then there Alex’s boyfriend Isak, whose silence nearly suffocated him. He thought he’d left that Isak buried six feet under, but he’s beginning to think that Isak had never died away at all. 

Alex smirks. “I’ve been telling him just how you like getting fucked, baby. All your pretty little sounds, how nicely you begged to have a cock in you. I just wanted to make sure he was treating you right. You were just so desperate for me to stay. It was sweet.”

Isak’s lungs squeeze tight. He remembers it all, of course, and since then, he’s maybe sort of figured out that Alex doesn’t have the same sweet memories of their time together as Isak had in the beginning. To hear that put so crudely, though, makes him feel impossibly small. Isak hadn’t mattered, and he’s an idiot for thinking he ever could. 

He feels stripped raw, broken. He wants to run, he wants to scream, but most of all, he wants Even to look at him — really look, so he can know which version of Isak Even is seeing. 

He can’t tell whether he wants to know the answer. 

“Is this true? Have you been talking to him?” Isak demands. 

Even’s eyes flash. Finally,  _ something. _ “No, of course not.”

“So is he lying?”

It takes Even a second to reply, and in that second, Isak  _ knows _ . “I never even replied,” Even says. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to burden you.” When Isak’s face remains blank, Even repeats, more desperately this time, “I could handle it.”

Isak laughs, but there’s no humor behind it. “You wanted to protect me?”

Even doesn’t speak.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Two, maybe three months?”

“So you’ve been in contact with my ex for months and you never thought it was important for me to know?” Isak hates the tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. He hates that he’s so goddamn  _ weak,  _ hates that it’s Even making him feel this way.

But this isn’t new. He had just forgotten that until now. 

Not anymore. He’s not some damsel in distress, and Even most certainly isn’t his knight in shining armor. 

“This isn’t a fucking movie. This isn’t some epic romance where the boy saves the girl from her shitty past, and they live happily ever after.”

Even still can’t face him. “I know that.”

“I told you I wasn’t here to feed your hero complex,” Isak says coldly, then turns to walk away.

He hears the sound of Even calling after him, Alex chuckling at both of them, like this is a game to him, but he can’t register it. He can’t register much of anything as he weaves his way through the crowd. The fog in his head refuses to lift, but maybe this is a good thing. He doesn’t want to think. He doesn’t want to feel. He most doesn’t want to  _ want,  _ and he most certainly doesn’t want to want Even holding him tight in his arms, reassuring him that this is some horrible nightmare. 

Even only has about three inches on him, but apparently those inches disproportionately translate into speed. He catches up before Isak even gets to the curb, and he pulls Isak’s arm so hard it nearly leaves the socket.

It barely even hurts. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he says, as Isak rubs his shoulder. “But you have to listen to me.”

“Do I?”

“You’re right. I should’ve told you about Alex, but I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Didn’t you think I’d be hurt if you  _ didn’t  _ tell me?”

“I didn’t think it would matter. I just ignored him, I swear.”

Isak grits his teeth. “That doesn’t fucking matter — you kept something important from me because you thought you fucking knew better. You don’t get to make those decisions.”

Even lets out a harsh breath. “Is this about — look, I don’t see you any differently.”

Isak can see Even’s eyes clearly now, under the streetlight, and he can see that’s a lie. There’s a new guardedness that wasn’t there before, a careful distance that he’s not sure they can ever breach. He thinks, in a different life, under different circumstances, he would’ve let Even understand. Even  _ could,  _ Isak thinks, had struggled for his own independence and autonomy for years too. 

But Even hadn’t chosen his bipolar. Isak had chosen Alex time and time again when he knew perfectly well how that would end. Even is a victim of circumstance, of shitty luck, but Isak is the boy who’d chosen to hurt because he knew that was all he deserved.

Isak hit with the sudden urge to tear all of this all down. Nothing will ever be the same between them, now that Even sees what a pathetic piece of shit he is. It’s better to accept that he’s not cut out for this, for acting normal and whole when he may have lost a piece of himself years ago. 

Isak squares his jaw. “You really think I needed to be taken care of? Fuck you.”

“ _ No —  _ shit, can we just talk about this? I don’t get why you didn’t just tell me about him.”

Isak laughs, deliberately loud. “Maybe I was better off with Alex after all.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He knew when to leave me alone. I don’t want to talk about my fucking feelings with you.”

“That’s fine, then,” Even pleads. “Can we just talk? About anything?”

“You know,” Isak says very calmly, “I didn’t see it, but maybe Alex was the best thing that could’ve happened to me.”

Even pales. “You know that’s not true.”

Isak raises his eyebrows. “Are you trying to tell me how to feel? Dude, I was an depressed, closeted kid, and he made me realize I was gay as fuck. He made me stop lying to himself.”

“By taking advantage of you? By hurting you?”

Isak reaches inside himself, to tap into the anger in his veins, but it’s masked by shame. Even knows all the hidden parts of him now, and he can’t take that back. Isak can already see it. Even tip-toeing around him whenever Alex’s name is brought up, making sure he doesn’t talk to anyone else too much, stay angry at Isak too long in case all the bad memories come back up. Isak thinks the humiliation would just kill him. 

Isak had forgotten the destructive power that comes from feeling utterly powerless. 

Isak laughs, louder this time. “You think that’s what happened? You think I was a victim? I wasn’t. You heard Alex. I liked it. I begged for it. He was hot, and I was horny, and that doesn’t make me a fucking victim.”

Even takes a step forward, but Isak flinches back. “Baby — “

“You don’t get to call me that.”

“I get it. You’re trying to push me away because it’ll be easier to deal with this shit, but it won’t help. You can’t push me away. I’ll still be here, because I love you.”

Once, a day ago, a few hours ago, this would have made Isak melt into his arms. Now, the weight of the words only sit uncomfortably in his gut. He was better off before, when he only had Eva and Jonas hovering over him, when he battled his demons in the comfort of his own head, when he didn’t have to deal with pesky things like love. Love and Even. Even and love. The two things he used to think he couldn’t have.

Turns out he was right after all. 

“No,” Isak says. 

“No, what?”

“No, you won’t. Not if I leave.”

Even’s breath goes shallow. “Isak, don’t do this — “

Isak avoids his eyes. “You once asked me whether ever let myself be with people without wondering when they’re going to hurt me.”

Even remains silent, clenching his jaw. 

“I forgot to wonder, for a while. It was a fucking mistake.”

He can’t muster up the energy to feel much of anything as he walks away. For the first time in months, he feels completely empty, but isn’t any more clear-headed for it. The night is cold, and he tugs his jacket tighter around him. It doesn’t help. 

Even doesn’t follow him. 

* * *

Isak spends the next few hours wandering Oslo, but in the end, there’s only one place he can go.

Jonas opens the door to Eva’s apartment with a towel on his head, takes in Isak’s red-rimmed eyes immediately. Isak hadn’t meant to cry, he really hadn’t. He had thought he was stronger than his past, but maybe that’s a lie too, along with everything else. 

But that hadn’t been the reason for the tears, in the end. The truth is that he misses Even already, misses him so acutely he may never breathe properly again. It had never been like this with Alex, even when he still felt the residual dredges of love. Isak thought he’d already experienced every kind of pain imaginable, but he’d never calculated for this, for Even. 

“What are you doing here?” Jonas asks.

Isak shrugs. “I think Even and I broke up? It’s okay, it’s totally okay — “

Jonas wraps him in a hug, and Isak falls against his chest. His chest heaves as he holds back a sob. “Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Isak says, wiping at his eyes. “I don’t know why I’m being like this.”

“You just broke up with your boyfriend, you’re allowed to cry.”

Isak shakes his head. “Why is this so hard?”

“Because I think it’s supposed to be.”

Jonas pats him on the back, gently, and Isak breathes in what he feels like is his first breath of air in hours. 

Jonas has the good sense to not ask him what happened, though he does hear him discussing it with Eva in the kitchen, after they’ve fixed up Isak with a hot chocolate in front of the TV. He watches The Office listlessly. Isak can only hear snatches of their conversation, but he knows how this goes. Poor little Isak, we have to take care of him, so he doesn’t self-destruct. It makes his skin crawl, but he can’t go back to his apartment now. Most of his stuff is at Even’s anyway, and he can’t risk running into him. His resolve isn’t that strong. 

Blankly, Isak watches his marshmallows melt. The chocolate tastes like cardboard. He’s waiting to feel something, anything, so he can remember that he made the right decision. He searches for anger, for sadness, betrayal. Nothing comes. Maybe this numbness is all he can have now.

As expected, Jonas and Eva make their way back to the living room, and each one of them sits on either side of him. Eva pulls him against her, so he can lay his head on her shoulder. He lets her play with his hair, but the truth is, he wouldn’t be able to resist if he tried. For all his defenses, Alex was right after all. Isak is just desperate for love. 

“Are you ready to talk about it?” Eva says. 

Isak shrugs.  _ No, never.  _

“Even just called,” Jonas tells him.

“Oh?”

“I didn’t pick up, but he did text me to make sure you were okay.”

Isak snorts. “If  _ I’m  _ okay? I broke up with him, I’m fine.”

But from the way Jonas and Eva are looking at him, neither of them are buying it. 

“What happened between you?” Eva says. 

“Nothing, I just realized it wasn’t going to work out.”

“You two were basically living together, and I know you don’t make those decisions lightly.”

Isak draws in a long breath. “It was a mistake.”

Eva pauses. “It didn’t look like a mistake. It looked like the best decision you’d ever made,” she finally says. 

The numbness has faded enough for him to process that, at least. Isak shudders as he holds back the tears pricking at his eyes. It did, it does, and maybe it was. Now that the full weight of what he’s done has settled in, he feels even more unmoored than he did before. 

The story comes out more easily then, and Jonas and Eva’s eyes grow wider with each new detail. Jonas looks like he’s ready to punch something every time Isak mentions Alex’s name, and by the end, he’s fuming. 

“That fucking  _ asshole,”  _ he hisses. 

“It’s okay,” Isak mumbles. “I should’ve stepped away.”

Isak hardly ever sees Jonas angry, but there’s a fire in Jonas’ eyes. “No, that’s not on you. He’s an asshole, and it isn’t your fault.”

Isak bites back the question sitting on the tip of his tongue.  _ What if it was? _

It had taken Jonas months to talk him out of that — the regret that he hadn’t left sooner, the self-hatred that bit at him when he remembered exactly all the bad shit he had ignored. It had only taken one conversation with Alex for him to regress two years. He’s desperate this to go the fuck away already, for the memories to stop looming over him, but that’s looking more and more like a fantasy. 

Eva just envelopes him in a hug. 

“It’s okay, it’s really, really okay,” Isak says, but the more he reassures her, the less true that sounds. 

The only person he wants to hold right now is Even. This should be over by now — this pressing need for his touch and his comfort and the distinct smell of his aftershave. He’s had hours to recover, but maybe Even isn’t something he’s meant to recover from. 

“Next time he shows up, you let us know, okay?” Eva says.

Isak sighs. “You two had that big project to work on — “

“So? You’re more important than a fucking grade.”

Isak ducks his head. “I shouldn’t be,” he mumbles. “I should be able to handle my own issues.”

“Well, too bad. You don’t get to pick what’s important to me, and I pick you.” Isak knows there’s no use fighting the stubborn glint in Eva’s eyes, and reluctantly, slowly, he hugs her back. 

“Dude, I hate to say this, but you have to talk to Even,” Jonas says. 

Isak jerks away from Eva. “No, what the hell? Didn’t you hear anything I said? He deliberately kept shit from me because he thought I couldn’t handle it.” 

Something uneasy weighs down in his stomach. He can’t tell whether that’s from the prospect of facing Even again after all of that, or from the fact that the prospect doesn’t seem like the worst thing. It feels  _ right,  _ feels like Jonas is naming the uncomfortable urge that’s been tugging at him since he’d left Even, and fuck, this is all wrong. 

“I think that he meant well,” Eva says, biting her lip. “And that’s not excusing what he did at all,” she adds quickly, “but he’s allowed to fuck up.”

Isak grits his teeth. “I know that.” But even as he says the words, he wonders if they’re totally true. Isak has a tendency to focus on his own fuck-ups, forgets that everyone else is entirely human too. And Even had never seemed human to him, this impossible boy who came out of thin air to sweep Isak off his feet. Even now, Isak is still a little in awe of him. 

Still. “Even knows about Alex now,” Isak says, carefully. 

“So?”

Isak curls his knees up to his chest. “What if he doesn’t treat me the same?” His voice is small, quiet.

It’s Eva who speaks first. “Why wouldn’t he?”

Isak rubs at his nose. “He’s got, like, this complex about playing the hero, even when we met, and that’s fine, but — “

Isak didn’t really know what he had expected, but he definitely expected Jonas to outright snort at him. 

“What?” he asks, a little baffled.

“I don’t think that’s a hero complex,” Jonas tells him. Isak opens his mouth to protest, but Jonas stops him. “Look, you stayed with him for his last episode, right? You didn’t have to, but you stayed. Why?”

“Because I care about him?” Isak says, slowly, like it’s obvious, because it fucking is. His irritation spikes. 

Jonas is undeterred, and his grin only spreads. “Exactly. I’m not saying you’re entirely wrong, but wanting to take care of you doesn’t mean that he has a hero complex, or that he’s trying to fix you. He fucked up, and he should’ve told you, but Isak, that isn’t some big, underlying problem in your relationship. That’s one mistake that he made, and that he won’t make again now that you’re talking it out.”

Isak shakes his head. “You didn’t see him. He looked at me like I wasn’t even me.”

“Did he say anything to make you think that?”

Isak’s answer is silence enough. 

Eva pulls him into her arms again, and this time, Isak lets her. Jonas claps his back, but Eva grabs his hand, keeping it there, until they’ve effectively turned into a cuddle pile. Isak can’t hold back a soft smile. In spite of everything, in spite of his world crumbling down around him, at least he still has this. “I think that we see what we want to see, sometimes,” she says, stroking his hair. “Even if it hurts us. Sometimes, especially _ ,  _ if it hurts us.”

Isak hangs his head. “I don’t know if I can ever trust him again.”

“You won’t know until you try. He deserves that.  _ You  _ deserve that.”

“Getting help from someone isn’t the end of the world,” Jonas adds. “It just means there are people out there who give a shit about you, and that’s not something you should take for granted.”

Isak pretends to wipe an imaginary tear from his eye, but he’s smiling. “Does that mean you give a shit about me?”

Jonas grins back. “Just a little bit. Must be the way you steal all my shit and never do your laundry.”

“I only do that out of love.”

Jonas laughs. “I know. Me too.”

This makes Jonas and Eva start bickering over who Isak loves more, but Isak is already miles away. Even knows all the hidden parts of him now, but he’s been allowed to know Even in return. That’s not an accident, it can’t be. Isak may be unaccustomed to love in its purest unconditional form, but he’s learning slowly that unconditional extends to him, too, that he’s worthy of it. 

As he sits there, mushed between his two best friends, he thinks maybe the world isn’t crumbling around him after all. Maybe it’s just getting rebuilt, slowly but surely. Maybe it’s waiting for him to return. 

* * *

 

**day one-hundred and forty-seven.**

Isak makes it to Even’s apartment around 2 AM. Even’s eyes are bleary as he opens the front door, but they widen as soon as he sees Isak. 

“Isak?” he asks, cautiously. He blinks again, and then, “Isak?” he asks again, but  this time, louder, with a note of excitement he can’t completely contain. “You’re really here.”

Isak nods. “I am,” he says quietly. 

Even suddenly grins so wide that it almost knocks Isak off his feet. His breath catches in his throat. Even’s beautiful, and the way he’s looking at Isak makes him almost feel like he’s beautiful too, like they’re beautiful. 

Isak has never seen things more clearly. 

Even reaches out to pull him into a hug. Isak lets him, but hesitates before hugging him back. When he finally draws his arm around Even, he’s afraid Even can see right through him. It’ll take time for him to relearn Even — time that they have but time nonetheless. Even pretends not to notice. “I’m so glad you came back,” he says.

“You didn’t expect me to?” Isak jokes.

Even’s silence is enough. Isak figures he can’t blame him. Isak is the biggest flight risk out there.

(But that’s changing. Starting now.)

“Can I come in?” Isak says.

Even jumps back to attention. “Yes, yes, of course.”

Isak immediately settles into the corner of the couch that he likes the best, the one with all the throw pillows where he very nearly falls asleep on every one of their movie nights. 

_ “You’ll barely claim a side of the bed, but you’ll do it to the couch?” Even had asked the first time he’d noticed.  _

_ “This couch is some prime real estate,” Isak had replied, before Even had tackled him against all those pillows and demonstrated exactly how comfortable they can be.  _

When Even offers him a small smile, he knows that he’s made the right decision. 

Still, Even lingers in the doorway. “Do you want drinks? Food? Anything?”

Isak holds out his hand. “Just come here.”

Even does, padding so cautiously that he barely makes a sound. Afraid of startling Isak, he figures, but Isak has never felt more sure of anything. Everything about Even screams familiarity, comfort. He’s wearing Isak’s favorite pajama bottoms to steal, because they’re so goddamn soft. Isak is pretty sure his white shirt is actually Isak’s because of the soy sauce stain on the sleeve. Isak longs to hold him, cradle him against his chest, but he’s not sure what he’s allowed to touch anymore. It’ll take time for Even to relearn Isak too. 

Even apparently has no such qualms, if the way he wraps around Isak like an octopus is any indication. 

“Oh my God, dude, you’re squishing me.”

Even buries his face in Isak’s neck. “I just missed you.”

“We’ve only been apart for four hours.”

“Feels like longer,” Even says, and Isak really can’t make a joke out of that. The chasm between them could’ve lasted an infinity. 

He clears his throat. “I was just thinking about a couple of things.”

“Oh? And are you done thinking?”

“No,” Isak answers truthfully, “but I am done with all the important things.”

“Like what?”

Isak squeezes Even’s hand. “Like this.”

Even doesn’t respond at first, and Isak feels his heart clenching painfully. When he starts to remove his hand, Even laces their fingers together more tightly. 

“I’m glad,” Even says. “I thought I was going to have to make you a movie to apologize.”

Isak breathes out a sigh of relief. 

He laughs. “You didn’t have to do that. I would’ve taken some old-fashioned groveling. Maybe get down on your knees, beg, that kind of thing.”

Even winks. “If you wanted me begging on my knees, you only had to ask.”

Isak shoves him playfully. “You horndog.”

“Yep,” Even says proudly. He’s betrayed by the soft kiss he presses to Isak’s forehead, which is more soft and tender than any sort of rip-your-clothes-off passionate. 

Isak plays with the hair falling onto Even’s forehead, and his expression turns contemplative. “You’re not the only one who has to apologize, you know. I fucked up too.”

“No — “

“Yes, I did,” Isak says with conviction. “You’re allowed to admit that.”

Even takes a second, but he nods.

Isak continues, “You know, Jonas and Eva just told me something really smart? Apparently, in relationships, you’re supposed to  _ talk  _ to each other.”

Even chuckles. “That’s so wild.”

“I know. Who would’ve guessed?” Isak jokes. “Seriously, though, I shouldn’t have walked away. I’m not good at being in relationships. Before this, the most high-stakes talk I’ve ever tried to have was telling Jonas that he has to stop using chocolate when he’s fucking girls because it makes him really loud, and we were running out of chocolate syrup.”

Even lets out a laugh, then hugs Isak close, and his strong arms feel more like home than any physical place Isak has lived. “I don’t blame you for running. I shouldn’t have kept that from you.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Isak agrees, and Even drops his gaze. He sighs. “Look, I’m not going to ask you what he said, but why didn’t you just block his number?”

Even bites his lip. “I — I think a part of me was waiting.”

“What for?”

“For you to tell me about him.” Even exhales loudly. “I think a part of me just didn’t want to believe it, or like, I wanted to see if you’d tell me first. It was wrong.”

The room is so silent that he can hear the whir of the dishwasher from the kitchen. Isak can feel everything — Even’s fingers where they freeze over his cheek, the clenched muscle of his forearm. He searches again for the anger, tests the waters inside his own whirling mind. It’s there now, just a hint of it. Surprisingly, he finds it more comforting than the shame. That’s deep-rooted, inescapable no matter how Isak grows and learns and runs. Anger — that he can overcome. 

Slowly, rigidly, Isak nods. “I know you meant well. I can’t say I forgive you yet, not fully, but I may have done the same in your shoes.” Isak holds up a pinky finger. “No more secrets?”

Even smiles, enthusiastically hooks his finger through Isak’s. “No more secrets,” he agrees. 

Isak sighs and buries his face in Even’s shirt. He’d used the lavender body wash that never fails to calm Isak down, and he wonders if somewhere in his subconscious, Even had known he was coming back. That thought makes Isak settles the mess inside of him, a little. He has someone to come back to, now, someone who waits, someone who cares. The weight of Even’s expectations doesn’t scare him anymore — he’d expect the same of Even, and maybe that’s how this is supposed to work. 

“I guess I should tell you about Alex now, huh?” Isak says. 

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Isak says, and he knows it’s true. He’s not doing it for Even’s sake, he understands now. This is for him. 

Even seems to get that, and his eyes hold no judgment as Isak breathes in slowly. Isak decides to focus on the soy sauce stain, unable to meet Even’s gaze. 

“We met when I was around sixteen? For a while, things were really good. Or I thought so, at least. Then he started cheating on me. I knew he was doing it too, and it was even more obvious when he started bringing people home. He knew I could handle it, because I didn’t have anyone else. I left when he got violent.”

Isak finally finds the courage to raise his head, and meets Even’s steely eyes, his hardened stare. Isak isn’t used to seeing Even like this, and he instinctively nuzzles his nose against Even’s. “You weren’t there. You couldn’t have done anything.”

Even’s grip on Isak’s arm relaxes, but only barely. He huffs out a breath. “Fuck, I should’ve punched him at Elias’.”

Isak cups the back of Even’s head and brings them together so they’re facing eye-to-eye. He chooses his words carefully. “No, you shouldn’t have. I am all for stooping to people’s levels, usually, but that’s what he wants. I get it now. He got off on making me feel insecure and unstable, and he’d love to do that to you too.”

“We have to do something, tell the police, or — “

Isak shakes his head. “No. I can’t go through a police investigation, especially since there was no evidence. I told Jonas not to take any pictures.” Isak draws in another long breath. “I don’t regret it. What’s done is done, and it’s over.”

Even seems to accept Isak’s answer, but he’s obviously still itching to do  _ something _ . Even’s an artist, one who operates best in the language of grand gestures. This time, though, the grandest gesture may be doing nothing at all. 

Isak plants another kiss on his lips, makes sure to draw it out nice and slow. It’s a promise of the future, a repudiation of mistakes past. It’s everything and nothing in the grand scheme of things. Tomorrow, they’ll forget exactly what this kiss felt like. The memory of it will be replaced by more, thousands more, infinitely many more. But that’s nothing to worry about now. All they can do is live in the moment. 

“Besides, I have you now. I won,” Isak tells Even. “But I really don’t need you trying to protect me — “

“I’m sorry. I don’t think when it comes to you.”

Isak shuts him up with another kiss. “You didn’t let me finish. I don’t  _ need _ you taking care of me, but it’s okay, sometimes, to want that, I think. That’s the whole point of this, right?”

Even breaks out into a smile. He laces their hands together, slots his fingers in the spaces between Isak’s. “I don’t need you taking care of me, either,” he agrees. “But I do want you to keep making me chicken noodle soup, you know. You make it better than my mom. Don’t tell her that — she’d have my ass.”

Isak laughs. The secret is in measuring just the right amount of lemon juice. “Is that all I am to you? My limited but weirdly specific cooking abilities?”

“No, of course not.” Even presses a kiss behind his ear. “You also make me coffee in the mornings.” The next kiss lands on his forehead. “You let me choose the movie every time, even though they always make you fall asleep.” Then, his lips. “You’re the sweetest, kindest boy in the whole world.”

Isak snorts. “Now you’re just overdoing it. I have it on great authority that I’m kind of a dick.”

Even just kisses him again, fleetingly but smugly, like he knows something Isak doesn’t. 

“This is like Donald Trump claiming that he’s the least racist,” Isak protests, but he can’t ignore the butterflies erupting in his stomach. 

“Don’t mention the orangutan’s name when I’m trying to seduce you.”

“Seduce me?” Isak says incredulously. Even’s kisses have been so chaste that Isak can’t get anywhere near enough. 

“Don’t deny that I’m giving you a little bit of a boner, right here.” Even taps over Isak’s heart.

Isak doesn’t deny it, but he does roll his eyes rather spectacularly. 

Even kisses him again, and this time, he’s not afraid to play dirty. He tangles his fingers deep into Isak’s hair and tugs, ever so gently. It’s enough to turn Isak into a panting mess, and he can do little more than breathe into Even’s mouth. When they finally break apart, Isak feels considerably more seduced, in his heart, in his dick, everywhere. 

But before anything else can happen, there’s something Isak has to get off his chest. “I realized something else earlier too,” he says, playing with the pads of Even’s fingers. The barest brush has shivers running down Isak’s spine. 

Even raises his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“I never told you I love you,” Isak whispers. 

Even’s eyes widen, and for a moment, everything stops. Isak doesn’t know what he had expected. The world to shake under him, maybe, or the Earth to spin off its axis. 

In the end, it’s nowhere near that momentous. When Even kisses him, it just feels like  _ more —  _ more of what they already had, but better, fiercer. 

“I knew that already, I think,” Even breathes. 

“I know that.”

“But I’m so happy you said it.”

“I know that too.”

Nothing has changed, not fundamentally, but maybe that’s the most momentous thing about this. Isak Valtersen had somehow fallen in love, against all the warnings he tried to beat into his head, against all his fears, against the residual clutches of his past and his loneliness. He’d somehow fallen in love, he’d let himself  _ be  _ loved, and maybe that’s what surprises him more. 

But, as Even falls asleep in his chest that night, he thinks he may have underestimated himself. 

* * *

 

**day three-hundred and fixty-six.**

Isak hates double dates, but that doesn’t mean that he wants to be late for this one.

He’d lingered too long chatting with the doctor he’s shadowing at the hospital — which is great for his career, but maybe not so on the day when Even insists on celebrating their sort-of anniversary. If Isak finds it strange that they’re celebrating the day Isak had literally walked out of a restaurant because Even annoyed him so damn much, Even wouldn’t hear it. “Besides,” he’d said, winking, “I think we both know that was the start of something.”

Isak couldn’t argue with that, though that may have been due to the fact that Even had started kissing down his chest again with clear intent. No matter how many times they’d done this, Isak doesn’t think he’d ever get over it — the familiarity of it, the warmth of having sex with his boyfriend in  _ their _ bed, in  _ their _ apartment, just another page in their intertwined lives. 

The tram ride from the hospital is impossibly long, and Isak spends most of it tapping his foot anxiously. Even’s already at the bowling alley with Jonas and Eva, complaining about third-wheeling. Jonas and Eva have only been back together for about a month but already act like their two year long breakup hadn’t happened at all. In the end, it had been so natural that Noora couldn’t even fault her for it, and they’re still friends. They’re better off that way, Eva thinks, and for the first time, Eva has a group of girlfriends she can rely on. They’ve integrated into Isak’s life so fully that he can hardly remember a time when he had been terrified of having more than two friends, though he still can’t tell whether Chris has a crush on him. Even finds it hilarious, and Isak still finds it utterly baffling why anyone would think him attractive. 

Just then, Even snaps him a picture of Jonas wrapping his arms around Eva as he teaches her how to properly aim at the pins.  _ Hu _ r _ ry up so I can be a gross cliché with you,  _ he writes, and Isak has to bite his lip to keep himself from grinning like a loon. He happens to know Eva could kick Jonas’ ass at bowling, and sure enough, the next picture he gets from is of Eva with her arms around Jonas. Jonas is flipping Even off, but he’s smiling so wide that there’s no fooling anyone into thinking that he’s actually pissed off. 

When he gets to their booth, he finds that Even has already ordered him the greasiest pepperoni pizza he could. Isak hasn’t eaten all day, too busy finishing up assignments and running after surgeons, and his moan when he bites into the pizza is indecent. 

Even smirks. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you love the pizza more than me.”

Isak scoffs. “Please, you already know that’s true.” He takes another huge bite of the pizza just to prove his point, then sticks his tongue out at Even. Instead of getting grossed out by the sauce at the corner of Isak’s mouth or his truly subpar breath, Even looks positively endeared. Isak gives a half-hearted attempt to squirm out of Even’s reach as he kisses him on the forehead, but eventually gives in. He hasn’t seen his boyfriend in a goddamn day, he’s fucking allowed.

“You love me,” Even sing-songs. 

Isak rolls his eyes, but confirms it with a soft kiss to Even’s cheek. He doesn’t say it nearly as much as Even does, but he likes to think he’s a show not tell kind of guy. Even doesn’t seem to have any complaints, and the truly terrific sex they get up to whenever Isak does say  _ I love you  _ makes up for it. 

Jonas and Eva make their way over then, arguing about whether Eva’s bowling talent is real or whether she had just gotten lucky. Eva’s grin turns smug as she drops down across from them, and her eyes land on the arm Even has wrapped around his waist, the way their legs are tangled together underneath the table. “And to think that I made all of this happen,” Eva says.

“All you did was force us into a double date that turned out to be a disaster,” Isak points out. 

“No, it didn’t. It started all of this, didn’t it?”

Isak is about to argue again, but Even squeezes his sides tight, and suddenly it’s hard to speak. “We’ll dedicate a shrine to you sometime,” he says. “Maybe name our firstborn after you?”

Eva taps her chin. “I’ll take a nice bottle of wine,” she declares. 

The rest of their food comes out then, and Isak has never actually been able to refuse free food, no matter how full he is. His head is a little hazy by the time he finishes his chicken wings, and the best way to describe his situation is  _ food coma.  _ Even’s hand drawing circles on the bare skin of his waist doesn’t help, and he’s two seconds from dropping dead on Even’s shoulder. Jonas and Eva are lost in their own little world, planning a trip to Greece, and Isak can’t help but smile. This is it. This is the rest of his life. 

As if beckoned, Even chooses then to slip his hand into Isak’s. “So, what are you into?” he whispers, echoing the first words they’d ever exchanged. 

Isak laughs, giddy. A year ago, that question had caught him completely wrong-footed. Back then, he couldn’t fathom the idea of someone being interested in him, much less someone like Even, who could have the world. It was the stuff of fantasy, that this ridiculous boy could woo Isak with his ridiculous rom-com moves, could make him believe in all the things he thought he’d grown out of. 

Now, the answer is obvious. 

“You,” Isak says simply, squeezing back, “I’m into you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for joining me on this journey :) i hope to see y'all soon with something less angsty lmao

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! i am not super active anymore (?) but talk to me at [bechnaesun](http://bechnaesun.tumblr.com)!


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